Becoming Real
by point-of-tears
Summary: War is surreal, especially in the magical world. Between an evil megalomaniac, inordinate battles, and arduous training, life can become intangible. What does it take to become real again? Slash HP/SS
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any Harry Potter characters, locations and anything else recognizable in that realm. No money has been made from this endeavor and it never will be. My only consolation is that I own plush Fluffy doll. No joke. He is sitting on my bookshelf right now. He guards my Harry Potter books.

**Warnings: Slash**! Just like my previous three stories. Harry/Severus. I will give additional warning before chapters that have more adult content. Also, **bad language**, **AU**, **OOC**, **WIP** and I really don't know what else to put….Oh, like all my other stories, please disregard books six and seven. They are both wonderful books, but I just don't use them in my little universe.

**A/N: **Back in the saddle again! I just can't seem to keep away from writing. Oh! By the way, I have a Beta now! What is a Beta you ask? Why a Beta is a super-high-charged electron that is emitted by certain types of radioactive…what? Not that kind of Beta? Oh, you mean a person who helps me out by catching my mistakes; that kind of Beta. Yes, I have one those now as well! Let me introduce you to **Invader Shawn**. She will be helping me with my writing and generally being awesome.

_Becoming Real_

_Written by – Point of Tears_

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Prologue

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Run.

Dodge.

Run.

Block.

During battle, thoughts become simplified. It all has to do with instincts. Survival of the fittest. After all, if being faced with the prospect of being chased by a ferocious beast, and a rabbit were to think, 'Should I run? Yes, I think I should run. This beast looks quite scary. Yes, running is definitely my best option. Or is it? Which way should I run? I ran a lot before breakfast. I am slightly tired. That way looks slightly…,' chances are the rabbit would not get to finish this internal monologue and the ferocious beast would find himself with a rabbit dinner.

Instincts.

It is all about instincts.

Harry Potter was functioning on pure instinct right now. No, he wasn't being chased by any ferocious beast—though if you asked him, he would allude to something of that effect—but as he danced among the sea of curses and hexes, his instincts were in overdrive. It was almost as if he were having an out of body experience, Harry realized as he did another block maneuver and then sent a hex in the direction of his attacker. His body was moving and reacting but there did not seem to be any engagement from the brain. The eighteen-year-old didn't know if that was a good thing or not, because even if thoughts were simplified in battle, he was pretty sure that one still needed their brain in order to live through a fight. His mind didn't seem to be able to keep up with his body.

Harry jumped out of the way of some unknown green hex. _"Expeliarmus," _he threw the spell at what he hoped was the general area of his attacker.

"Surely, you did not expect such a low, childish, ineffective spell to work!" he heard from the opposite direction.

'Darn it, I guess surely I did,' Harry berated himself.

The young man ran behind a nearby tree and panted, trying to gain his bearings and prayed that his brain would finally wake up and let him know a spell that would actually work.

"Hiding, are we? How courageous." taunted the snide voice, "I always knew that when faced with real danger you would turn tail and run like a scared little dog."

Harry growled as his hackles were raised. He turned around from behind the tree, _"Stupe—"_

He didn't get to finish as a hex flew through the air and hit him in his right shoulder. The effect was instant and Harry soon found he had no feeling in his right arm. The Gryffindor let out a series of cuss words under his breath as he reached over with his left hand to retrieve his wand before it fell to the ground. He whipped back around to seek short-term asylum behind the tree once more. He had walked right into that one.

"Idiot," he whispered fiercely to himself.

If he was functioning on instinct alone, then Harry was prepared to say that at this point his instincts….

Well…

Stunk.

'I'm just so sick of fighting,' Harry thought as he tried to wipe the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his ratty jumper and made sure that his useless right arm was behind the tree and not dangling out in the open.

His attacker was playing with him.

Like always.

And Harry was falling for the games.

Like always.

Harry could sense his combatant coming closer. He was trapped. As soon as he left from behind the tree, he was going to be at the wrong end of a wand. Finally, it seemed his brain decided to come to the party when a small spark of an idea entered the front of his mind. He carefully pulled out a small hand mirror that he kept in a side pouch at his hip attached to his jeans. Hermione had suggested they carry such things in case they encounter such beasts like a Basilisk again. Harry crouched down, propped the mirror up on the ground by his foot, and got his mark in his sights. The man was still a few meters off, walking slowly, confidently. The teen would only get one chance at this. He pointed his wand, shaking slightly since he was a little unsteady with his left hand, at the mirror and whispered a binding hex. The light from his wand bounced off the mirror and refracted towards the man walking towards him. Harry silently sent a prayer that it worked.

He heard a cry of anger coming from behind him and took that as a sign that his hex had hit. He quickly ran out from behind the tree and to the far left of the battle area. A burst of orange light flashed in front of his eyes, causing him to halt his running. At that same moment another hex hit him in the side. Bright green eyes widened as he felt his limbs—those still able to move—begin to harden and freeze up.

'_Petrificus Totalus,' _Harry thought bitterly, 'Great. Bleeding fantastic.'

Gravity took hold and Harry began to topple backwards from his displaced weight. Finally, he saw stars as his head connected with the cold, hard ground with a sickening—

THUD!

'Ah, that felt nice.' Harry thought as he looked up at the treetops and the grey clouds peaking through the browning leaves. The cold of the November morning finally began to bite at his skin. With all his running around, it was the first time he had been aware of the weather in hours. Now, in the stillness of it finally being over, he couldn't help but think that he liked the fall. It was an off thought to have after losing a fight, but Harry just chalked it up to the fact that he was still high on adrenaline and his brain was still unwilling to really engage.

'You seem to be thinking now,' a voice in the back of his head spoke, 'and all it took was getting a concussion!'

In the stillness of the cold air, Harry heard the crunch of leaves under feet as the victor in their battle walked over to him. It perplexed Harry that he hadn't heard the leaves during the whole time they were running around, but now the noise seemed to be deafening. He wouldn't surprise in the least if the previous silence from the dried leaves was due to some interference from the formidable dualist that, if the sound of his footsteps alluded true, was only a few footsteps away.

Apple-green eyes looked over as what little sunlight was blocked out by the shadow of the tall, dark, long haired, austere man fell over him.

"That was, by far, the most uninspiring, unpolished, predictable, and brainless bit of fighting you have accomplished in a long time, Mr. Potter," Severus Snape said in a bored tone. Harry noticed, though, that the man's left arm was bound tight to his side. Uninspired or not, at least he had hit the guy.

"Did you even bring your head to the session today? Obviously not. Although, I am not surprised. In a real battle, you will not have a set time of when it is about to begin. If you cannot even come up with a plan now, what hope do you have? None. That is what. You were pathetic today."

Harry felt his anger begin to rise at these words, but because of the spell, he was unable to do anything about it.

"What? Nothing to say in your defense? Or do you, for once in your miserable life, agree with me that you are not fit at this point to hold that wand you have," Snape said with a self-satisfied smirk.

Harry really wished he could say something right now. Oh, how he wished he could say something. However, he knew that anything he said right now would not be anywhere near proper and would probably get him in trouble with both Dumbledore and Hermione. That, and probably would cause Snape to kill him, but boy, did he really have a few choice words to say right now.

He just hoped that his eyes conveyed half of what he was feeling, but since Snape's head wasn't bursting into flames, he guessed not.

"I believe," Snape went on as he continued to smirk, "that you need some time to sit and think about what would have been a better way to have conducted yourself during that duel. I am sure that one of your little lackeys will be by eventually and shall assist you."

The shadow receded and the crunching of the leaves resumed as the Potion Master walked away from the immobilized boy-who-lived. Harry listened as the sound of the dark, lanky haired man walking away got lighter and lighter until he could hear nothing at all but the occasional rustle from the wind going through the trees. His stomach, as if on cue, growled. He had overslept by ten minutes today and, as a result, Snape had marched him off without breakfast. Harry wondered what time it was now. His stomach gave another grumble.

Harry let a long, deep huff come out through his nose and hoped that Ron or Hermione—more likely Hermione—would see Snape return to headquarters without him, and would come to investigate. Otherwise, he was in for the long haul.

"That's it…if this war doesn't kill me…Snape will.'

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Thank you for reading the Prologue!

Reviews are loved!


	2. Lectures, Bills and Fights, Oh My!

**A/N: **Thank you all so, so much for the reviews, alerts and favorites! Okay, so, I have been trying to be better and respond more personally to reviews, but for some reason there is a messed up line of code or something and I can't do review reply. So thank you to moonimp52, megsey, Loveless Torii, Morgana-White, Ichihime, Marifw, emeraldcryst, fornadan, Rurur, Invader Shawn, loretta537, and Marionette Javert Edwards, for reviewing the first chapter so far. Huzzah for reviews! *Does a little dance and the trademark Pirouette of Unmistakable Happiness * Now I just hope that the story lives up to expectations. No pressure…no pressure.

Betaed by the oh-so-talented Invader Shawn. Whose beta comments always make me laugh.

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Chapter 1: Lectures, Bills and Fights, Oh My!

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'_You can't kill Professor Snape, Harry.' –Hermione Granger_

Harry didn't know how long he lay there on the ground. All he knew was that it was really starting to get cold, his nose itched something awful, he really needed to use the loo, and there was a buzzard that seemed to be hanging around too much for his liking. The winter clouds made it near impossible to tell what time it was exactly, but he could tell by the way the clouds were moving that he had to have been there for over an hour.

Possibly two.

Or three.

That could only mean one thing. Snape hadn't returned straight to the headquarters. If he had, then someone would have been alerted to his absence.

'Hell, I can't even sneeze without someone wondering what I'm up to nowadays,' Harry thought as he tried through force of will to get his nose to stop itching.

This was an exaggeration, but not by much, which was the sad thing. Since graduation and the escalation of the war, one member of The Order or another constantly monitored Harry's movements and goings-on. This development had irked Harry to no end, but now that he was frozen like a log in the woods, he wouldn't mind someone coming to check on him.

They wouldn't though.

Why?

Because he was suppose to be with Snape.

And they all trusted Snape.

'Git.'

The only thought that kept him entertained for the indefinite period of time was imagining all sorts of different—and some highly imaginative—ways in which to exact his revenge on Snape. He was working out the logistics of adding wart powder to all of the man's shoes when he thought he heard his name being called out in the distance.

'Great. Now I'm hearing things. I always knew I would go completely loony one of these days and this seems to be my—'

He heard it again. This time louder.

It sounded like a female voice.

A very specific female voice.

'Hermione!' Harry thought joyously, 'Oh, please don't let me be going crazy!'

He started to hear the crunching of leaves that got faster and louder. Soon the light was blocked out again as he looked up and was met with the worried looking, brown eyes of his frizzy, brown haired friend.

"Harry, what's happened to you?" She asked.

Since it was all he could do at the moment, Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh, right. Sorry," She said as she pulled her wand out of her pocket and waved it over him, "Silly question. _Finite Incantatum_."

Harry instantly felt his body return to normal, as though he were ice melting, and immediately sat up. His head swam a little from the sudden movement, but he couldn't care less at this point. He gingerly stretched out his arms—only to realize that his right one was still dead weight—and righted his legs and shook them to get the feeling back to them. He looked back at his friend who had kneeled down on one knee beside him.

"You are the greatest witch who ever lived. Did you know that?"

"Hmm, you always say that," Hermione said with a smirk as she held out her hand to help Harry stand, "Flattery will get you everywhere."

Harry's legs were wobbly as he finally put his weight on them again. He took a few steps to make sure he could still walk. He could, but the movement also reminded him that he had a very full bladder. He needed to find a tree. Quick. He looked around and as fast as his still shaky legs could carry him, he made a beeline for a group of trees and underbrush.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hermione asked; annoyance and concern laced in her voice.

"I've been frozen for God knows how long, Hermione," Harry called back. "Where do you think I'm going? France?"

Harry quickly darted behind the tree and took care of his business, a feat that he discovered to be highly interesting to do one-handed. He emerged a few minutes later to find Hermione still in the same agitated state he had left her.

"Did you have to walk so far off?" She asked as he walked back towards her.

Harry groaned, "Don't tell me I should have an escort just to relieve myself now!"

"No, it's just that you should be careful being out in the open."

"'Mione, this place is secure; otherwise, The Order would not use it for training exercises."

"I know that. It's just—"

"I know. You worry," Harry said as he ran his left hand through his hair; pulling out a leaf or two. He didn't get regular haircuts anymore and as a result his hair had grown a little past his ears and had curled at the ends. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley constantly fussed over his hair, wanting to fix it. Ron would just snigger and say if he grew it out any more, he would look like a girl.

"Can you blame me?" Hermione asked as her eyes softened.

"I just wish you wouldn't do it so much," the young man said as he pushed up his glasses; his right arm dangling uselessly.

"What happened to your arm?"

"Snape happened to my arm, that's what," Harry said as he looked down at the lifeless appendage.

Hermione came over the few short steps and began to run diagnostic spells on his arm. Harry only knew half of what she was muttering because he had heard it several times before. His education in medical spells came from finally paying attention to the vast array of spells that were used on him either now or when he was in the Hospital Wing.

"Where is Professor Snape?" the brown-eyed witch asked with furrowed brows as she continued casting spells over Harry's arm.

"You mean he isn't at the house?"

"No. He hasn't returned yet."

"Oh....What time is it?"

Hermione's eyebrows rose a little, "Just a few minutes after three."

"Damn."

"Harry! Language!"

Harry bowed his head, "Sorry, 'Mione. It's just that Snape left."

"How long ago?"

"Well," Harry did the math in his head, "about three and a half hours ago."

"What?" Hermione looked up at him, absolutely horrified, "I'm sure that's not true."

Harry's stomach growled. Harry looked down at his midsection, "My stomach says it is."

"He knows the danger. I am sure he did not leave you without any protection for so many hours."

Harry rolled his eyes, though he made sure his friend did not see, "Sure he can. This place is secure, remember? Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if there is some sort of tracking spell on me that tells people when I get into trouble or if I even breathe funny."

There was no reply. He looked over at his friend, "'Mione?"

"Your arm is fine. It seems it was just a temporary hex that causes numbness. It should go away on its own," she said evasively as she put her wand away, her deep, brown eyes never meeting his green.

"'Mione, there is a tracking spell on me…isn't there?"

The young woman looked up at him finally, "There might be a little one…"

Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"Or several," she finished, "but they are to make sure you are safe."

His ebony hair ruffled as he shook his head and sighed, "Alright, I had meant that as a joke, but sadly…I'm not surprised. Is that what finally made you come check on me?"

"No…I just finally got too worried," Hermione was looking at him sadly now.

He knew that look.

It was a look of sympathy…

Pity.

He saw that look more and more it seemed. Not just from Hermione, but from several other adults in his life.

He didn't like that look.

That look made him really uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat, "Look, let's just get back. I'm so hungry I could eat like Ron, and there is the little matter of killing Snape."

"You can't kill Professor Snape, Harry."

"Hmmm." Harry hummed noncommittally.

"You can't."

"We'll see. Come on, let's head back."

With that, he began to walk towards the apparation spot and Hermione hurried to catch up. She looked over at her long-time friend. Harry had certainly changed since he was eleven, and although logically she knew that was to be expected, it still took her by surprise every time she realized how much they had grown up.

Though Harry had never gotten tall—a fact that caused the young man much chagrin—he had grown several inches and had finally filled out and grown into his features. Gone was the skinny, slightly runt-like looking boy that boy with too big eyes and an awkward stance; now there was teen that was slightly taller than she was, with broader shoulders, and a more confident walk. His eyes still seemed larger than normal, but now he had dark circles under them from a lack of sleep and they possessed a more world-weary gaze to them. His hair was also a right mess still, but try as she—and several others—might, he had given up on trying to fix it.

"Do I have something on my face?" Harry asked with a lopsided grin as he continued to look onwards and walk.

Hermione, embarrassed to have been caught staring, looked back ahead of her. "No, I was just thinking."

"'Bout what?"

"Your hair is a mess."

A groan came from beside her and she smiled.

"Don't start with that again!"

"You should really let me cut it."

"Oh yes, we all remember what a good job you did the last time you cut my hair."

"Hey! That was my first time. I am a scholar, not a hair dresser."

"Obviously—Ow!"

Harry would have rubbed his arm where Hermione had just swatted him, but his other arm was still numb.

"Luckily, my hair grows back really fast. What made you decide to come and look for me?"

"I told you, I was worried."

"Hermione…"

"Professor Dumbledore came asking for you. He said that when we saw you we were to tell you to come and see him. When he left, I realized how long you had been gone, and I came to check."

Harry nodded his head, but then realized that Hermione couldn't see the gesture, "Oh."

'Might as well have just nodded his head. Brilliant addition to the conversation.'

He shook his head, "Any idea what Dumbledore wants?"

"Well, he didn't say anything, but the Minister had sent a message with Shacklebolt. He dropped it off a little before noon."

Fudge.

Great.

"That'll be a fun conversation."

Ever since graduation, the trio had been staying at Grimauld Place—or Headquarters as it was known to The Order. Harry hadn't been there since before Sirius's death and it took the young man a long while to get used to the constant reminder of his diceased Godfather. Nowadays, he could look around and remember the few, but very good times that he had shared with his dad's best friend; however, he still would feel pangs of guilt from time to time. He was secretly very glad for these training sessions out in the middle of Heaven-knows-where, because it meant a chance to escape the old house and the memories it contained.

Many of the order members either stayed at the house as well, or were constantly coming and going. Remus was the only other permanent resident at Grimauld Place, but he was constantly on missions for The Order, so his presence was very sporadic. Dumbledore made sure to come by every day keep everyone appraised about the goings on of either the Ministry, or Voldemort and his followers, or both; whichever he had news to report on. The rest of the Weasley clan was constantly dropping by at odd hours of the day and night. Mrs. Weasley often brought meals to ensure that everyone was eating properly, and no amount of assurance from the group could persuade her otherwise. As a result, their pantry and icebox were constantly overflowing with food items. Harry had a feeling she also made her little visits to check up on them and fuss after them when she saw fit; which was quite a lot.

'In fact….'

"Where's Ron at?" Harry asked as they reached the apparation spot.

"Molly came over."

'Knew it.' Harry thought.

"What's she on about now?"

"The fact that Ron doesn't have any aspirations to train for a job."

Well, that was certainly true. Right after the three had moved into Grimauld Place, Harry had gone to work on his training for the war. He didn't know how, but he had once again pulled the proverbial short stick in the deal. Dumbledore had insisted, despite protests from both parties, that Snape be the one to train Harry in his combat skills. The older man had sited that their lessons in Occlumacy, while a little nonconventional, had resulted in Harry successfully mastering the skill. Harry just thought the old headmaster liked to watch he and Snape almost kill each other. On the occasions that Snape was not able to train due to his spy responsibilities, Harry would either take training with Moody, or rarely, he would have time off. If you can call it that.

Dumbledore had given him another assignment besides training. Research. When he was able, he was in the Black family library doing research to try and find new hexes, curses and anything else that could help their cause. He had found several interesting spells that could help, but he had yet to find anything of remarkable value. Still had a lot of library to go though. Several order members bragged that with all of his training, he was a shoe-in for the Auror department or any other Ministry job he set his sights on after the war. Harry would just wonder if he would even see the end of the war.

Hermione helped a lot with the research part, but since her training was not as extensive, she was also in the process to become a Medi Witch. Madame Pomfrey would prescribe a reading load and basic spells for the young witch to work on and Hermione—excited at the prospect of homework—would study and practice almost every waking moment she could. Her plan was to pass her Medi Witchcertification and then move on to advanced Healer training after the war was over.

She would often use Harry and Ron as guinea pigs for her spells. The boys had agreed—after Hermione explained to Ron what a 'guinea pig' was—but did not properly think the agreement through. Combat training meant no shortage of cuts and bruises for the young medic-to-be to tend to and even provided an occasion to practice advanced healing when Harry broke his arm in another memorable duel with Snape. Luckily, Hermione's spells never failed. However, recently, the young witch had begun to study wizarding diseases and had begun to show interest in wanting to test some of those spells as well. She had already asked if either of them had ever had Dragon Mumps before, and when Harry answered the negative, she had asked if he wouldn't mind contracting the sickness so that she could cure him. Harry was still debating his answer on that one.

Ron, on the other hand, had claimed that he too needed to focus his energy on training for the war. While the tall, redhead did train quite a bit with Moody and, on the occasions that he was there, Remus, but almost everyone agreed that Ron spent just a little too much time hanging around the house. He absolutely refused to do any of the research unless he was forced by his mother or tricked by Hermione, his excuse being that they had done enough homework in Hogwarts to last a lifetime, thank you very much. Mrs. Weasley had let it go in the beginning, since both Charlie and Bill had taken time off before starting work and she had assumed that her youngest male offspring had been consumed with the dreaded war that made their lives so difficult now.

However, as time passed she amended that statement and just thought Ron was lazy. Now, if she came over to the house and found Ron sitting around, chances are the man was in for a good, long lecture. Harry had to admit, Ron had gotten very good at avoiding his mother and could very well become a stealth agent in with the Aurors. That, or become the world's best hide-and-go-seek champion, but that probably didn't pay too well. It appeared though, that the usually elusive Ron Weasley had gotten caught by his mother.

"How long has she been lecturing him so far?" Harry said as he started to feel a tingle in his right arm, thankful that it was getting back to normal.

"Forty-five minutes," Hermione replied, "and it didn't look like she will be stopping any time soon."

"Ouch."

Hermione huffed, "He deserves whatever he gets. He was lying about in the drawing room today, moaning about how boring it is around there. I could have wrung his neck."

"Yea, but still, a forty-five minute lecture from Mrs. Weasley is brutal."

Hermione made a noise in the back of her throat that let Harry know that she still thought whatever her laggard boyfriend got was too good for him.

Harry chuckled, "See you in three?"

Hermione looked at him and gave a small smile, "Of course. Three…two…one."

The two friends turned on the spot and dissaperated away. The only sign that the two had once stood there was the resettling of the dried leaves that they had kicked up when they'd turned.

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The second they made it to the foyer at Grimauld, Harry heard Mrs. Weasley's voice floating through the rooms. Actually, it was more like screaming. Quite scary, actually.

"I think we should go back." Harry said as he looked at Hermione.

She looked about ready to agree, but then thought about it and shook her head, "Professor Dumbledore is waiting on you."

"Dang," Harry whispered.

He steeled himself for the inevitable and walked into the main part of the house. The drawing room was one of the first rooms that a person encountered on the lower level and it was where Molly Weasley was giving her youngest son a thorough talking-to. Harry had hoped to sneak by, since it was usually the case that when Mrs. Weasley was in one of her moods, everyone was a target for a lecture. However, as he tried to sneak past the doorway his best friend in the whole world did what best friends do best.

"Harry! There you are, mate!"

They drag you into the mess with them.

Harry's eyes widened and he froze as Mrs. Weasley rounded on him.

"Aha! And you, young man, I have been talking with some of the other Order members, and they have been telling me that you have been skipping meals sometimes!" The slightly stout, red headed mother said as she advanced on her surrogate son.

Harry tried to back up, but his movement was stopped by Hermione standing slightly behind him.

"Did you think I would not find out? You are training more and more these days and you need your strength. Now, every single time I come over here with food, I assume it is going to be eaten. You have told me yourself that you know how to cook. You are a growing boy and need to—"

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry began to say imploringly.

"And how many times have I told you to call me Molly!" the maternal older woman was now shaking her finger wildly at Harry.

Harry stared at the finger for a few minutes before continuing his statement, "Dumbledore was really needing to talk to me."

'Oh, please, let it work…' Harry secretly crossed his fingers.

Mrs. Weasley's whole demeanor changed in an instant, "Oh, well, if Albus is needing to see you, then you shouldn't keep him waiting. Go on with you. Shoo!"

Harry nodded vehemently, glad to have a reprieve, and began to walk off to the back of the house towards the kitchen.

"I will want to talk to you afterwards, dear," Mrs. Weasley said after he got about two steps.

The ebony haired young man stopped in his tracks, 'Fantastic.'

He turned back to look into the sitting room again. Mrs. Weasley had already turned her attention back to Ron and Hermione had moved to sit in one of the chairs to read a book. Harry wasn't fooled. The smirk on her face told him that she was really sitting back to enjoy the show. Harry really hoped that whatever Dumbledore needed to talk to him about, it would last long enough for Mrs. Weasley to blow off all of her steam. It was not likely to happen.

He was in for a lecture.

He stayed for a few more moments in the hallway; enough time to catch Ron's eye and mouth the words, 'Thanks a lot.'

Ron gave his best sheepish grin and a small shrug of his shoulders before his attention was pulled back to his ranting mother.

Harry shook his head and began again on his path towards the kitchen. This was one of the quieter days in Grimauld place. Most of The Order was either at the ministry or out on special assignments. Harry wondered when he would go on assignment again. The last time he had gone out had been shortly before his birthday; it was suppose to have been a recon mission.

Observe only.

When has that ever worked out?

They had ended up having an altercation with the group of Death Eaters they had been ordered to watch when they had discovered that the group had two hostages from the Ministry.

Moody had been in charge of the mission, and had finally decided to move in and extricate the two hostages. The fight had only lasted mere minutes, with hexes and curses flying about, but in the end, the Death Eaters had escaped. Luckily, no one in the recon party was hurt too severely and the two hostages were left behind. Moody called the group, "A bunch of wannabes. Didn't even throw one Unforgivable. Sloppy. Hardly worth the fight."

Harry had a hard time seeing the logic in that.

Since then, he had done nothing but training. Dumbledore had expressed that he felt it was time for Harry to begin focusing on a more targeted objective. Harry thought that meant that Dumbledore sensed that the fighting was going to be escalating and Harry was nowhere near ready to be 'The Chosen One' that the prophesy had made him out to be.

Or at least he didn't feel like it.

Harry shook his arm as the feeling was really starting to return in the form of that wonderful sensation of having bumblebees buzzing around under your skin. He was glad that movement was returning, but really wanted the buzzing to stop.

He finally entered into the kitchen to find Albus Dumbledore sitting calmly at the long dining table. The man had changed a lot since the beginning of the war two and a half years ago, but it was in the little things.

He did not wear as bright of colors.

His eyes didn't twinkle as much.

The once silvery beard now seemed greyer.

Dumbledore acted his age more now, or at least he appeared to. Harry always thought that the man was a hundred going on twelve, but now that he saw the man looking contemplatively into his teacup, he saw that the war was really taking its toll on the leader of The Order.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Blue eyes immediately set on him, and while there was that unmistakable twinkle, there was still that dull sadness present as well.

'I wonder if all our eyes end up like that…'

"Harry, my boy, have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?" the older wizard asked as he poured a second cup.

Harry moved forward and was about to voice his acceptance when his stomach let loose a mighty growl. Dumbledore chuckled.

"And perhaps a few sandwiches as well?" he said as he flicked his wand and a covered plate obediently came out of the icebox and set down gently beside the tea, "Molly brought them over this afternoon. Luckily, she deposited them in the icebox before she managed to find her son."

Harry looked appreciatively at the sandwiches, "Thanks, sir," he said as he took his seat beside his once headmaster and helped himself to one of the sandwiches with his left hand. He did not want to be rude and shove the whole thing in his mouth, so he forced himself to take smaller bites. If Dumbledore noticed that he was favoring his left hand, he didn't voice it.

After swallowing his third mouthful he realized that Dumbledore had yet to say anything.

"What was it you needed to talk to me about, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed and set his teacup down, "Perhaps it is best to get this business out of the way. Are you aware that Kingsley came with a missive from the Ministry?"

Harry nodded as he took another bite of his sandwich, his attention all on the man who was in front of him.

"It appears as though the ministry is asking for your support in a matter."

"My support?" Harry asked in surprise. He then realized that he had interrupted, "Sorry."

"Quite alright, quite alright," Dumbledore waved off. "Yes, your support. As it turns out, the Ministry is trying to get a certain bill passed, and is having a difficult time doing so."

"Why is it so difficult?"

"Well, Harry, while the Minister of Magic is the highest authority, he cannot pass bills into laws on his own. That would be a dictatorship—something we are trying to avoid, actually. Minister Fudge made some terrible mistakes right after Voldemort's return, and they very nearly cost him his job. While he still may want to move to a more…singular government…to make his work much easier and his influence more substantial, he has to go through proper channels still if he wishes to keep his office for the foreseeable future. The wizarding community would not stand for it again."

"As it stands, in order for a bill to be passed into law, it has to be presented to the Wizengamot and voted upon. It is also reviewed by a Ministry committee that reports back to the Wizengamot about how the wizarding community would be affected by such a bill. The committee does not vote, but their testimony is taken into great consideration by the Wizengamot. If, and when, it is passed on that level, then it is sent to the Minister, who then, and only then, has the power to pass it into law. If the lower committees vote no, then the bill gets pushed back and does not go through."

Here, Dumbledore paused to take a sip of his tea. Harry took the opportunity to try and absorb everything the bearded, older man had just told him. He had never really thought about Wizarding politics before. In fact, with all that had happened in the past few years, Harry didn't really think much of the Ministry at all. This, however, while somewhat confusing, sounded like a system that tried to be as nonpartisan as possible; or at least that was its original intent.

"So," Harry finally said after some time, "They are having trouble getting a bill passed….why does the Minister think I can help?"

'Or that I want to help?' Harry still didn't take to kindly to have been called a liar when Voldemort had returned.

"The top Ministry officials feel that having your support of the bill would allow it a smoother transition through the ratifying process."

"What is the bill?"

"Ah, now we get to the matter!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "It is a bill that will enact a law that will give the Ministry more leniencies to monitor personal homes, businesses, and individuals and to enforce personal restrictions where they deem necessary."

Harry blinked, "The government would spy on people?"

Dumbledore nodded, "If they felt that there was due cause, then yes, the Ministry would be allowed to spy on people. The bill also gives them the ability to take over private enterprises if they so choose."

"But….why?"

"They claim it is for the good of the wizarding community as a whole. If they are able to keep closer tabs on people, then they may be able to weed out those who are following Voldemort."

"But…but what about everyone's freedom?"

"Minister Fudge says that the law would only be temporarily enforced; until the war is over."

"And it has not passed?"

"No, the Wizengamot cannot agree. Half side with the minister, believing that if people have nothing to hide, then they will not mind the Ministry looking into their affairs. The other half feels this is too much an invasion of privacy and that the Ministry should have its limits. The review committee said outright that the wizarding community did not want the Ministry to become such a controlling factor in their everyday lives."

"So, Fudge thinks that if I say this bill is okay…"

"That it would persuade the enough of the Wizengamot to vote in favor, yes, that is correct."

"And Fudge thinks I'll do it?"

"He felt that you would see that, with the continual addition of Death Eaters, it would be best to find suspicious behavior before it turned into something more and thus hindering the dark forces."

"He wants me to feel guilty?"

"I am not the one to say what Minister Fudge wishes or does not wish."

Harry looked at the older, blue-eyed wizard. He could tell by the tone of the man's voice and the look in his eyes that Dumbledore did not think highly of this bill. Either that it would not work or the Ministry would abuse the power…or both. The man was, however, not giving any verbal indication as to what Harry should do. This had been the growing case now. Harry had always thought that Dumbledore was playing a sort of game with the Ministry and with Voldemort. Like a chess game.

A game of skill.

Move and countermove.

Strategy.

Harry had been aware of a new development during the last year of Hogwarts and now; Dumbledore was inviting him to play the game. He would ask Harry's opinion more and more about what course of action he thought they should take. Harry was still always surprised when his ideas were put into effect.

'This,' Harry realized, 'is all part of the game. If I say yes to this bill, the Ministry will keep coming back for more and more. I'll become their little poster boy…. If I say no…what will happen then? What will be the countermove?'

"I…I'm not going to endorse it," the young man said finally after an internal debate, "If the bill is as great as they say it is, then they don't need me to tell them so."

"I thought that is how you may react," Dumbledore replied.

Harry didn't miss the small smile return to the older man's features. Apparently, Harry had made the right move. Or the move Dumbledore thought was right.

'This whole 'game' thing is really confusing,' Harry thought as he grabbed another sandwich.

"Well," Dumbledore continued as he poured himself more tea and added what Harry considered a lot of sugar, "Now that that is settled, there is one other business matter to discuss."

Harry swallowed his bite and waited.

"Voldemort is on the move again. It would seem that our suspicions are correct; he has become confident in his growing forces, and has decided to take a more active role in their movement. While it seems that he is still sending his Death Eaters out to do most of his dirty work, I suspect that we will be seeing more and more of Mr. Riddle in the near future."

Harry nodded silently again. That had been what they had expected.

"As a result, I am afraid I must ask that your training intensify. He will seek you out, Harry. Make no mistake about that. He is not the type to wait patiently for things to come to him. Because of the prophecy, he considers you his final hurdle towards ultimate power."

'Hm, I'm a hurdle,' Harry mused as he sipped his tea.

"I have asked Professor Snape if he would be willing to take your training even further. He was somewhat reluctant at first…"

'I bet.'

"- but he has agreed to intensify your training sessions in order to prepare you for what is ahead."

'Joy. What are the training sessions going to be like if they weren't intense before?'

Harry knew, though, that this was something that had to be done. He was going to face Voldemort one of these days. Probably soon and multiple times.

He needed to be ready.

"Yes, sir," he replied as his looked up at his mentor and friend. "I will try my hardest."

Dumbledore clapped him on the shoulder, "That, my dear boy, is all I ask of you and of which I know you will not let me down. You always do so well."

Harry really didn't know what to say to that, so he ducked his head down and took a sip of his tea. He cursed himself for feeling a flush of embarrassment over the compliment come to his face. He was supposed to be a fighter. A soldier. Soldiers didn't blush.

"Well, I am afraid I must be going. I have to meet with a few more people before returning to Hogwarts. I must say, I expected you much earlier Harry," Dumbledore said amicably as he finished his tea and stood up.

"Oh," Harry said as he also stood, "Um, I couldn't get away from my training session with Snape."

Harry really didn't know why he had just said that. A few hours ago he couldn't wait to tell anyone who would listen what a complete arse Snape was for leaving him frozen in the middle of the field, but now that he was actually faced with telling, it felt like…well, telling. Tattle-telling. He was eighteen and an adult. This was between him and Snape.

Dumbledore smiled and the twinkle came to his light blue eyes. It was a look that gave Harry the feeling that the old man knew exactly what had happened and thought it highly funny.

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yea. Him."

The elderly wizard shook his head, still smiling. "Well, I am glad that you are already taking your training so seriously. I shall be off. Take care, dear boy, and I shall see you tomorrow," He said as he walked over to the fireplace in the corner of the kitchen and grabbed a pinch of floo.

"Goodbye, sir. Oh! Wait!"

Harry quickly went over to a table on the other side of the room and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and ink. Remembering that his right hand was still slightly numb, he shook his arm to make sure that the feeling had returned enough to write and quickly scrawled out his note while Dumbledore hummed patiently by the fireplace. His writing suffered a little from the slight paralysis, but—much to Harry's frustration—his writing looked about the same. Just as messy. He finished writing and walked over to the silver haired wizard. He handed him the note.

"Here's a note for the minister, sir, to let him know that I have declined to give any sort of endorsement to the bill. That way he won't give you any trouble when you tell him."

Dumbledore's eyes lit up even more. "Very smart, Harry. Thank you. Now, I must go and deliver this as well as check up on some of our Order members in the Ministry. Oh, and Harry?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You should really start calling me Albus," the man said with a grin as he threw the floo powder into the fireplace; green flames rising up as a result.

"Uhhh…" Harry didn't know if he could do that.

"Consider it part of your training and work on it." Dumbledore laughed. He stepped inside the fireplace, called out his desire to go to the Ministry, and was off in a literal flash.

Harry turned back and cleaned up the tea things and put the remaining sandwiches back in the icebox. He did this to try and keep Kreacher from feeling too overworked and to delay the fact that he had to go back and have a one-sided dialogue with Mrs. Weasley. Finally, the kitchen was clean and he had no choice but to go back into the main part of the house.

He had just entered the hallway that led out of the kitchen when he ran into something that nearly sent him to the floor. No, not something—someone.

Harry looked up and came face to face with Snape.

"Watch where you are going, you clumsy, little fool." Severus snarled as he righted himself and dusted off his black robes.

Harry quickly recovered, "Well, nice to see you, too!"

"Move. I have better things to do than stand here in your presence."

"Oh, how sad. You know, I had things to do, too, but someone left me in the middle of a field frozen for three and a half hours!"

"You have no one to blame but yourself."

"You go on and think that; I'm still gonna blame you, too! Where the heck did you go?"

"I am your superior and your instructor. I demand respect. I do not have to disclose my business to you and I do not appreciate you raising your voice to me!"

Harry let out an exasperated huff of breath. "I don't appreciate being left frozen in a field, _sir_."

"Oh, poor little brat. Were you frightened? I can assure you that you were in no danger." Snape sneered.

"I know that, you…You had no right to just leave me out there!" Harry waved his arms in frustration.

"Such dramatics, Potter? You had no right to waste my time with that shoddy excuse for dueling."

"So what purpose did leaving me out there accomplish?"

Harry's anger was rising. It always did when he was around Snape. The man seemed to still take great delight in belittling Harry any chance he got. In his anger he had begun to take steps and advanced on Snape. It was an unconscious move, one reflected by the Potion Master, and soon the two were nearly toe to toe staring each other down. It was times like these that Harry really wished he had grown a few more centimeters so that he didn't have to look up to meet Snapes dark gaze.

"Perhaps you would actually take the time to remember how to fight properly."

"I remember that I hit you a couple of times today, _sir_. Is that why you left me there? Pride a little damaged because a 'little brat' got the better of you a couple of times?"

"Why you little—"

"Harry! There you are, mate!" Ron said as he stepped into the hallway, "Been wonderin' where you been. Mum still wants to see ya."

Harry took a step back away from Snape. At this point, he would take Mrs. Weasley telling him he didn't eat enough over and over again over spending another minute with Snape. The man was just so infuriating!

Harry looked over at his friend, "Tell her I will be there in a minute."

Ron nodded, but stayed a few moments longer to look at his friend and their once Potion's professor. The redhead had known that he had broken up a fight between the two and was just a little worried that the fighting would resume once he left. Reluctantly he turned back and headed for the drawing room. Harry turned his head back to look at Snape who was still standing in the same spot with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I need to get by," Harry said.

"Then you should let me pass," Snape volleyed back, "I need to see Dumbledore right away and you—"

"He's not here."

Snapes eyes flared in irritation, "What do you mean he is not here?"

Harry rolled his eyes and saw Snapes fists tighten, "Just that. He left. He isn't here anymore," he said in over-exaggerated slowness.

Snape's fists tightened again until Harry saw the man's knuckles turn white, "You sorry little—you wasted my time and kept me from seeing Dumbledore on purpose!" the sardonic man said through gritted teeth.

Harry scoffed, "Not likely. He left before I even ran into you."

The green-eyed teen crossed his arms over his chest as well. If Snape was going to try and look intimidating, then so was he.

"You are lying!"

"I am not a liar! He left about ten minutes ago. Give me bloody veritaserum if it's that important!"

Snape snorted, but did not respond. The two continued to stand in the hallway in awkward silence.

"He isn't coming back anytime soon, either."

Snape shot him a look.

"_Sir._"

Snape sneered and let his arms drop down at his sides, fists still clenched, "Ungrateful brat!"

The Potion Master turned and in a flourish of black robes and snide that only seemed possible by him, and began to walk back down the hallway from whence he came to presumably the front foyer to apparate away from there.

"Intolerable Git," Harry muttered under his breath.

He knew Snape had heard him when the man stopped mid-stride and looked like he was about to turn back around; Harry braced himself for another confrontation. Instead the taller, ex-Death Eater growled and continued on with his stomping away from the young hero.

Harry stayed in the hallway until, seconds after hearing the _pop _of Snape disapparating, Ron came back into the hallway.

"What was up with Snape?" The tall, redheaded young man asked as he walked up to his best friend. "He looked right ready to kill somebody."

Harry just snorted and finally let his arms fall to his sides, "It's just the same thing all over again. I swear that man just likes to pick fights."

"He's evil, that's what. Can't see why Dumbledore makes you work with that imposter. Humph, spy for us. Yea, right. And I'm a Unicorn."

Harry shrugged, "Dumbledore trusts him."

"Uh-huh, well I trust him about as far as I can throw him!"

"He wouldn't even let you get close enough to him to throw." Harry said with a smirk.

"My point exactly!"

Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled, "C'mon, let's not keep your mum waiting anymore. I haven't heard how skinny I'm getting today. Thanks for dragging me into this, by the way."

"You're welcome," Ron said. He slung his arm over Harry's shoulder as the two walked out of the hallway and to the drawing room, "After all, what are friends for?"

"You do know that I will have my revenge, right?"

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

Harry just shook his head and grinned, thankful for his friends.

As soon as they made it to the drawing room, all thoughts about Ministry bills, Voldemort and Snape were soon in the back of his mind as Mrs. Weasley immediately began to fuss at and over him about all sorts of various things, mostly centering on his lack of taking proper care of himself. Harry sat still and listened dutifully as the woman who had become his second mother made him promise for the hundredth time to try and eat better and get more sleep. It was the same as all the lectures before and Harry knew that he would be having this same conversation with Mrs. Weasley once again. He looked over and saw Hermione still listening in under the cover of her medical book and Ron trying not to laugh at the fact that it was now Harry in the hot seat.

Harry wouldn't have it any other way.

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Thank you so for Reading Chapter 1!

I really like to hear from readers.

Reviews are loved!


	3. Let's Make a Deal

**A/N: **Thank you to all who reviewed and the favorites and story alerts. I am worried that people do not like this story as well as my other ones and it is a comfort to see some people enjoying the story and wanting to read more.

The wonderful Beta **Invader Shawn **says, "Hi" to everyone. She is really cool so be really nice to her if you see her around!

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Chapter 2: Let's Make a Deal

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_As in, those ridiculous, red muggle gloves? – Severus Snape_

'Maybe he won't show up," Harry thought hopefully as he cast another _tempus _spell.

He had been standing in the foyer of Grimauld Place for fifteen minutes waiting on Snape for their training session. It had been a couple of weeks since the frozen incident and not much had changed; in fact, nothing had changed at all. He and Snape still got along like oil and water. He still didn't eat enough for Mrs. Weasley. He still did research in the library with Hermione. He still met with Dumbledore and heard the latest news from the Ministry and Voldemort.

Too many 'stills.'

Life had become so routine that Harry had started to realize he was on autopilot.

Life was like a dream more than real life. Some weird, repetitive dream that one has whenever they have eaten too much spicy food right before bed.

But it wasn't a dream.

Days started to blend together. Only little things would stand out and make him realize that true time had passed.

The Ministry had not been happy about Harry's rejection to supporting their bill. Fudge would send a message every couple of days or so with tales of doom and gloom and consequences that were resulting from not having the bill. Harry knew that they were only doing it as a ploy to make him feel culpable for everything that was happening and that he shouldn't let it affect him, but he couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt whenever he heard of the attacks on both civilian wizards and muggles alike. The guilt did not stem from the bill though. Rather from the fact that he still hadn't stopped Voldemort.

Here he was, standing around, or training, or reading books, when Voldemort and his followers were attacking people. He felt like he was letting everyone down. The prophesy had said that he would have to be the one to get rid of Voldemort, and three years later he was no closer to that goal than he was to being able to get his hair to lay down flat. It made him antsy at times. He wanted to do something—anything—but he couldn't. He had to wait, though. Dumbledore said that it was not the right time to strike; so everyone did what they could in the meantime to prepare for when it was time to fight.

Harry was taken out of his ponderings when he heard his name.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said as he came up to stand beside his shorter friend. "No Snape?"

"Not yet anyway," Harry replied as he leaned against the wall.

Snape was supposed to meet him at ten o'clock that morning. It was the same time five times a week. Snape still taught Potions, but they had recently hired another Professor to take over the younger years, which meant that every Wednesday through Sunday, Harry had the pleasure of Snape's company. Joy. However, there seemed to be a reprieve in sight. It was now ten minutes past the hour. Considering the fastidiousness—that bordered on obsessive compulsive as far as Harry was concerned—of the man in question, if he was late, chances were Snape was not to show.

"That's great! You can train with me!"

"Yea, I guess I—wait, what did you say?" Harry asked in utter confusion as he whipped his head around to stare at his friend.

"I've started training." Ron said proudly as he puffed up his chest a bit.

Harry continued to stare.

"Ron?"

"Yea?"

"Ron Weasley?"

"Yea?"

"Is that really you?"

"Shut-up, Harry," Ron exclaimed as he rolled his eyes and lightly shoved his friend. "Yes, it is me, and yes, I am serious. I started training a few days ago."

"In what?" Harry still couldn't believe this.

"Armament," Ron replied with satisfaction, "I'm working with Kingsley and learning about battle movement and different magical weaponry and protection."

"That's…actually really impressive, Ron."

"Don't sound too surprised."

"I'm just wondering what brought all this change. I didn't even know you had started this."

"Well, I got tired about hearing from my mum on this. Plus, Kingsley was talking about the Ministry's defensive armory and it sounded really interesting. I asked if I could learn and he said yes."

Harry was looking at his tall, blue-eyed friend. He could tell that what he had said was true, but Ron was holding something back.

"That isn't the final reason. Is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean your mum has been telling you to get off your duff for weeks now and Kingsley is always talking about weaponry. He was an armourer for the Aurors when he first started. He is still really big on magical weaponry. What finally made you decide to ask him?"

Ron looked kind of nervous, "Can't it be a stroke of inspiration?"

Now Harry knew for sure.

He smirked, "With you? Probably not. What's going on?"

All he got for an answer was a mumble.

"Oh, uh-uh. You don't get to get away with that," Harry said as he turned and looked at his red headed friend. "Spit it out!"

Ron let out a huff, "Fine. Hermione said that she wouldn't—that we wouldn't—she said—she said that we wouldn't have any 'personal time' until I started taking life more seriously," he finally finished. His ears had gone bright red, indicating just what he meant when he said, 'personal time.'

"Oh." Harry said, "Well okay then."

So it was inspiration.

Hermione sure knew how to inspire.

Ron seemed to be more at ease now that the first admission had been made.

"I mean, she wanted to take away everything. I mean everything. Even when we—"

"Ron, I will give you all the candy in the world if you do not finish that sentence." Harry began to rub his face to will the blush away.

"Sorry."

"No, you're not."

"You're right. Come on. It's nearly a half hour past. Snape isn't showing up. Kingsley will be here soon and he is bringing some books with him that are about the different spells that are placed on weaponry and their uses. It's gonna be wick—"

Ron didn't get to finish his sentence as a very loud pop resounded right in front of the two young men, making them jump.

Harry looked to see Snape standing in the middle of the foyer looking about ready to kill someone. It was a look that was even scarier than his normal visage and Harry just knew that he was in for a wonderful training session.

"Let's go!" Snape barked out. He didn't even bother to move since the entry way served as the only apparation point in the whole house, "We have work to do and I do not have time for you to be standing about dawdling."

Harry wanted to point out that Snape was the one that was nearly thirty minutes late, but thought better of it. He cast a sideways glance at Ron who gave him a sympathetic grimace and backed away down the hallway.

The younger wizard walked over to stand beside Snape and no sooner did he step onto the faded Persian rug, Snape had dissaperated. Harry sighed and turned on the spot, going through that weird, dark tube and coming out in the middle of the unnamed forest clearing a few yards away from his training instructor.

Harry was curious. "So why were you—"

"We shall begin now," Snape said as he turned and brandished his wand right at Harry.

Bright green eyes went wide as he barely was able to dodge the orange hex that was shot his way. In an instant, his wand was out and he was in battle mode.

"That was slow!" Snape called as he kept throwing hexes at the younger man.

"Little eager this morning, aren't you?" the ebony haired teen yelled in reply, jumping as a spell came centimeters from his right foot.

Harry called out a couple of hexes, all of which were blocked by Snape. Soon, just as it did every day that they dueled, the field was full of smoke and more than a few scorch marks from stray curses and hexes.

Back when they first started, Snape had told him to wear robes. His reasoning was that he was a wizard and to properly duel, he should be 'properly attired.' It had taken all of three lessons where Harry was tripping over the bottom of his robes before Snape completely lost his temper and ordered him to wear his, 'terrible muggle clothing.' Harry had been happy for the switch since he was much more mobile in jeans and a t-shirt, but he had been somewhat hurt by some of the things Snape had said at the time. It was a lot of 'not being a true wizard' and 'completely ignoring heritage' and 'dishonoring all those that fought in this war before him.' That last one had been the worst. Not that he would ever tell Snape that his words had affected him so.

Ever.

Their duel went on without much incident for over an hour. Harry was glad that his stamina had built up significantly or he would have been dead on his feet already. He had been hit by two hexes, but they were two cutting hexes, so he only had to worry about a gash on his leg and arm. He hadn't been able to hit his opponent. Part of the problem was that Snape was able to cast silent spells.

Harry had tried, but found that he still couldn't quite grasp that skill, and as a result, he had to speak aloud all of his spells. He tried, when able, to whisper his spells. This was his best shot at catching the Potion's Master off guard. However, when he was running and dodging and getting hit with hexes, it was more than impossible to whisper anything at all, so he usually found himself yelling out his hexes and defensive spells, giving Snape the complete and total advantage in the fight.

This fact made both Harry and Snape very mad.

"Stop telling me what hex you are going to throw!"

"I'm trying!"

"Not good enough!" Snape bellowed as he ran up and cast another, light blue, hex towards Harry.

"Of course not!" Harry yelled in frustration, "Because if it were ever good enough, I think the world would implode!"

The younger wizard quickly yelled out a shielding spell, but the older man had run around the side and cast another hex at him that was easily able to pass right through his defenses.

The hex hit him directly in the stomach. Harry instantly felt like retching and did just that. He was infinitely glad that he hadn't had breakfast that morning. He dry heaved for only a moment before he was able to get a control of his stomach and started running again.

"Your big mouth will be your downfall, little boy!" Snape hollered out after him.

Harry hated Snape's taunts worst of all. He could handle criticism, that would be fine, but these were usually personal and very rude attacks on him. He knew there was a reason for this. Voldemort was not about to offer constructive criticism for him during a battle. In fact, Harry had witnessed firsthand that any time he was around the monster, the snake would always taunt and make personal attacks.

So he understood that Snape did this because this was how it was going to be when he fought in a real situation. Didn't mean Harry didn't think Snape enjoyed it a little more than he should and that it didn't piss Harry off royally.

"_Expeliarmus!" _Harry yelled as he turned and crouched to avoid being hit by one of Snape's hexes.

"Stop using that useless spell!" Snape said as he easily cast it off. "You have been taught advanced defensive spells and shields. Use them!"

Snapes flicked his wand in rapid succession sending of a stream of spells in all different colors; some Harry had never seen before. He easily leapt out of the way of the cutting hex and one that caused boils, when he was hit with an unfamiliar orange band of light.

Harry nearly fell over as the spell took effect.

It felt as if his skin was on fire, burning worse than any sunburn he had ever endured from working outside at the Dursley's.

He kept running and tried to cast his own set of spells, but it was proving to be more than difficult. The pain only seemed to intensify by the minute until the green-eyed wizard couldn't take anymore and he fell down mid-stride.

"Arrrrgghhhhh!"

Harry clenched his jaw and his eyes tightly shut and tried to make the pain stop. He knew that Snape would never let him hear the end of it if he didn't get up and keep fighting. He heard movement beside him that signaled the Potion's professor had walked up beside him.

"Really, Potter, the Dark Lord and his followers will be throwing much more than that. You had better learn to fight through the pain if you are going to survive more than five minutes in a real battle."

"I have been in real battle!" Harry gritted out through clenched teeth.

"Oh, yes. How silly of me to forget your illustrious battle history. It is amazing that, given your long list of battles, that you cannot even handle a simple hex."

"Simple…. My burning arse it's simple!"

"My, such language. You should know not to speak to your superiors in that fashion."

Oh, Harry could just hear the mirth in Snape's voice.

Yes, there was that undeniable, ever-present edge of sarcasm, but Harry just knew that Snape was smirking even though he hadn't opened his eyes.

Harry was getting mad.

Unbeknownst to the young wizard on the ground, his fighting companion waved his wand over him to remove the burning curse that had been placed on the ebony haired teen.

Harry felt the painful, burning sensation slowly leave his body and limbs. Eventually, when the last of the pain subsided, he finally stood up and looked face to face with Snape. The older wizard wasted no time in launching into his attack.

Verbal this time.

"You are not even trying, are you Potter? No, don't answer that. It might as well be a hypothetical question since the answer is so obvious. You rely of ineffective spells out of a crutch and some asinine belief that you do not want to hurt people. A battle will not be won throwing _stupefy _and _expeliarmus._ You are not a fifth year pretending to be a little leader with your club of misfits. This is real, and you know advanced spells, hexes, and curses that you should use."

"But—"

"Do not interrupt, you little simpleton!" Snape all but hissed.

Harry clamped his mouth shut. His teeth began to hurt with the force of his jaw closing.

"Now, your speed is adequate, but it is nowhere at the level it should be; especially at this point in your training. The worst factor in your dueling is your complete and total inability to grasp the fundamentals of casting silent spells. With all of your training, you should at least be able to cast simple spells wordlessly. Especially your little favorites that are only fit for a first year!"

"You haven't taught me how!" Harry said before he could stop himself.

Snape's dark eyes flashed dangerously. "Teach you how," he said slowly.

"Yea, teach me how! You are supposed to be my instructor, but you never instruct! You just throw hexes and curses at me and tell me how terrible I am. You want me to learn? Then teach me!"

"I shouldn't have to teach you! This is all instinctual, you idiot! You are such a lazy little boy. Just like your father. You assume that when you don't get something that it is everyone else's fault but yourself. It was the same way with occlumency. You could not get it, so you blamed everyone else."

"I did no such thing! And I learned eventually!"

"After it was beaten into you! It should not be like having to bleed stones in order to have you learn. My God, not even your father was that stupid. He was lazy and arrogant, but he had more of a brain than that, and that is saying something, Potter."

Harry needed a comeback.

"Shut it!"

Oh, that was a great comeback.

Super.

"I would expect a retort of no less a caliber from you. Honestly, Potter, the Dark Lord is on the move. He is ready to strike the Order, and when he does, he will go after you. Or he will go after your little friends to get to you. At this point, you are about as threatening as a fly. You are going to get more people killed with the way you fight now. More people just like your precious little dog."

Harry's fists clenched tightly at his sides. He could feel the anger rising even higher, but Snape knew what mentioning Sirius did.

"You are a liability. What will you do when your inability to fight costs your wolf, Lupin, his life?"

"Shut it," Harry said quietly as he closed his eyes.

"Or Dumbledore's? Or any other member of the order for that matter?"

"Shut it," Harry said a little louder.

"Ah, but let's not forget your little cronies."

Harry's fists tightened to the point of pain. He tilted his head down and looked at the brown leaves on the ground and tried to even his breathing.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley will die."

"Shut it!" Harry yelled at the top of his lungs as his head snapped up and he stared Snape in the face as hard as he could.

He didn't think he looked too intimidating though.

He could feel the tears in the corners of his eyes.

Severus felt the urge to take a step back, but resisted. His taunts had some reasoning behind them, besides the ability to insult and ridicule the young James look-a-like. Albus wanted the boy to not only learn silent spells, but to have the ability to do wandless magic as well. Severus doubted that Potter could accomplish such a task, but Albus had pointed out that the link between Potter's and Voldemort's wands could pose a problem when the two met in battle. If Potter could master wandless magic, then it could give him an edge. Severus was still highly skeptical, but proceeded to do what he knew would get the boy to possibly get him to a power level that would produce some kind of result.

He had to get the boy emotional.

The stronger the emotion, the higher the magic.

Severus knew no stronger emotion than anger.

So he taunted and insulted anything and everything he could about the boy in hopes of getting a reaction.

He had a reaction alright.

Potter was angry.

Severus could feel the magic building up in the smaller boy and it was quite a change. He would not admit it to any other living being, but the spike of power was quite impressive.

'It is still Potter, though.'

The kid was not going to be able to do anything right.

Was he?

"Or what? What are you going to do? You are nothing but a little boy who is in over his head and I do not think you can handle it. So tell me, oh brave Gryffindor, what are you going to do?"

Harry saw red.

Instinct.

Now was not the time for his usual comebacks.

Without a single thought in his head, Harry walked the few steps up to Snape and looked up at the man with the dark eyes and large nose.

And punched the man square in the mouth.

Harry watched as Snape stumbled back a few steps from the hit. He flexed his hand. It tingled from the force of hitting Snape's jaw.

'I just hit Snape,' Harry thought vaguely as he watched the taller wizard straighten and wipe blood from his lip.

Dark eyes pierced him with a glare that, if it could burn, would have felt worse than that curse the man had set on him just a little while ago.

Harry braced himself.

He was prepared for anything. Yelling, cursing, hexes, promises of an end of their training. Hell, he was pretty sure that by the look in the older man's eyes, a few of the Unforgivables would be aimed his way.

He was not prepared for the stoic man to march up to him and take a swing as well.

Harry just missed the punch and turned to block another blow from the Potion's Master. The man's fist did connect with the side of Harry's head on the third blow and he staggered backwards, seeing stars.

He looked over at Snape when his vision cleared and saw the man looking smug, even with his lip still bleeding.

It was on.

Harry went back at Snape with a left hook and any other hit he could think of. The older man blocked, dodged and gave his own barrage of strikes.

Harry hadn't fought like this since Dudley and that had been back in fifth year. After the Dementor incident, his overweight cousin had decided to leave his younger cousin alone completely. The teen was surprised he still remembered all of his blocking and dodging that he had learned from the many fights he had had with Dudley, but he assumed it was like riding a bike. Some things, you just never forget. He also remembered all he knew about hitting from watching and feeling all of Dudley's punches. He never got to hit back, in fear of Uncle Vernon's retribution, but now that he was actually swinging at someone—Snape—he realized the hitting part wasn't too hard. It was trying to keep from getting hit that the skill really came in.

More blows were landed by both men. Harry was sure that his eye was starting to swell from a particularly nasty hit, and was more that sure that his glasses were broken. They were bareky hanging on his nose. He could see a bruise on Snapes jaw as well as blood under the man's nose. Both were breathing heavy, but still too angry at the other to stop their fight.

'But am I really angry at just Snape?' Harry thought as he ducked to miss a punch, only to receive a blow to his ribs. 'Or is it something more?'

The fight did not last too much longer after that. Snape got in a few more hits, as did Harry and the two did an almost choreographed-looking dance as they blocked other jabs.

Eventually, it was finally over. The hits became less and less, the breathing more and more labored, until finally the two wizards stood there looking at each other as they tried to catch their breath.

Harry stayed upright long enough to see Snape lean back against the tree behind him in exhaustion. Harry then let his own fatigue and gravity affect him as he fell back onto the gloriously cold earth.

He looked up into the clear blue sky as he gasped for air. It was actually a beautiful day.

"Care…to explain that, Potter?" Snape finally said after some time.

"I think…that it is pretty self explanatory." Harry didn't even bother with the 'sir.' He had just given the man a bloody nose with his fist.

He was dead no matter what.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Snape replied.

That wasn't what Harry had expected. He had just come to blows with his teacher. Snape. He should be hauled up by his collar by now and swiftly expunged from the earth. He kept his head down and his eyes on the blue sky. If these were his last moments, he wanted a good view.

"You do realize that what you have done could very well be considered a most grievous of offense and highly punishable."

"That's putting it lightly."

"Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Harry was highly confused.

Where was the rage? Where were the hexes? Where was Snape being…Snape?

Harry decided to risk it and craned his neck up to look at his once Potion's professor. The man in black robes was still leaning against the tree only a couple a few paces away. He was bringing his wand up to different parts of his face and body and Harry realized that the older wizard was healing himself.

"Well?" the man asked.

Harry started, but automatically obeyed and answered, "My cousin Dudley."

"Ah."

"Where…where did you learn to fight like that?" Harry asked, still a bit unsteadied by the conversation.

"From your father and his mutt. Most likely the same way you learned your fighting skills from your rotund relation."

"Oh." Harry laid his head back down. "…Are you going to kill me?"

"Have I killed you?"

Harry snorted despite himself, "No."

"You are in no mortal danger, Potter. I could not kill you even if I wanted. If you have not realized, people find you highly necessary at the present time."

"Uhg, don't remind me."

And that's when it hit Harry.

While they had been fighting, Harry had felt, well, free. The act seemed to cause a sort of venting; a release of all the built up stress that had accumulated over the months since graduating and moving to Grimauld Place. He felt lighter than he had in a very long time.

"You want to do this again?" Harry finally asked as he lifted his head again to look at Snape.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you want to do this again?"

"What, fight?"

"Yea."

"Right now?"

"No…I mean later."

Snapes dark eyes narrowed, "What are you getting at, Potter?"

Harry winced as he sat up. Snape had really gotten him good in his right side, "I'm getting at the fact that I haven't been able to vent like that in months. I feel better now."

"So you enjoy punching your teachers?"

"I will point out that you are more relaxed, too, Snape. Otherwise, you would have killed me by now. Face it, it felt good to hit something, even if it was me. Or possibly because it's me."

"So you believe that by engaging in a bouts of fisticuffs we will solve all our problems?" Snape said in sarcastic disbelief.

Harry noticed that Snape didn't even try to deny his claim that the older man also felt better after the fight.

"I don't think it will solve our problems, but everyone needs a release. What if this is ours? What if once a week, after we duel, we fight like this. Well, not quite like this, but we box."

"Box?"

"Yea."

"As in, those ridiculous, red muggle gloves?"

"Yea."

"This is absurd."

Harry shrugged, "Probably. Still, want to do it?"

Snape continued to stare at him at length until Harry was sure the man was going to decline and take Harry straight to Dumbledore to tell the man what he had done.

"You are injured."

"Huh?"

Snape rolled his eyes, "You are injured."

He walked forward and kneeled beside Harry in the grass. He took out his wand and processed to heal all of the injuries Harry had sustained in the fight as well as the previous wizarding duel. When he was all done healing his black eye and glasses, he leaned back and studied the young man once more.

"You realize," Harry said, "that this is the longest we have been civil to each other since…well, ever."

Snape continued to look at him. "What you are suggesting is completely barbaric."

Harry waited.

"We would need to set up ground rules," the older wizard said, "And we would need to guard against more serious damages."

"Of course. Not worried about hurting me, are you?"

"It will seem suspicious if we show up with bruises all over our faces or require aid from your Ms. Granger in repairing missing teeth."

"True."

"And no one would be able to know. Not even your two little minions."

"Don't call them that. And I'm not telling a soul if you're not."

Snape pursed his lips together in obvious contemplation.

"I accept."

Wait.

Say what now?

"Really?"

"Hmm…though it I am loathe to admit it, you do have a point, Potter. An exercise like the one you are suggesting may very well provide an outlet for the growing agitations brought on by outside circumstances."

Was this really happening?

Harry reached out his hand, "Deal?"

Snape looked at the offered hand for a moment before taking it into his own for a resolute and brief handshake.

"Deal."

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Harry sat in the Black library later on that evening, thinking back at the strange day. After Snape had agreed, the two spent half an hour hashing out all the details and rules that went along with their boxing matches. They had decided on Fridays as the day of choice and Harry was to provide the proper 'hand accoutrements,' as Snape called them. Harry realized later the Potion master had placed him in charge of getting the gloves.

Harry knew it was crazy. In fact it was more than most likely going to end very badly, but at the time, well, it had seemed like a good idea.

'Maybe I should just see where this takes me,' Harry thought as he turned his attention back on the book he was reading.

Or supposed to be reading.

He had been reading the same page for the last forty-five minutes.

"Whatcha working on Harry?" Ron asked as he and Hermione came through the wooden, double doors.

The green-eyed teen looked up and over at them. He gave a small smile and shut his book, "Nothing, my brain has decided to forget how to read."

"Oh Harry, do you need me to do anything?" Hermione asked sympathetically as she sat down in one of the high back chairs beside Harry's.

"Wait," Ron said as he pulled up another smaller chair and sat beside his girlfriend, "That excuse works? I should have used that years ago."

"Hmm, see you miss the hole in that statement," Harry said to his friend.

"Oh, and what is that?"

"You gotta know how to read in the first place."

"You really want a pillow in the face, huh?" Ron asked with a smirk.

"There will be no cushion fights in the library!" Hermione said sternly.

"Yes, Madame Pince," Ron mumbled under his breath.

Harry wasn't sure Hermione had heard Ron or not. She seemed as if she wasn't aware of the tease until—

Smack!

"Hey!"

Until Hermione reached around with her hand and soundly popped Ron in the back of the head.

Ron was rubbing the back of his head lightly, "Whatcha do that for?"

"I heard what you said, mister."

Harry couldn't help but start to laugh.

"Oh, shut it, you! I know for a fact that she has done that to you too!"

"Yea, but it's always funnier when it happens to someone else. You laughed at me when it happened."

"I did?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, it must have been really funny."

"Oh, hilarious."

"You know," Ron said as he got a look in his eye that reminded Harry of his brothers, Fred and George, "Why is it that we don't do that to Hermione?"

"Because I value my life, that's why."

Hermione just smiled calmly, "So, what were you reading Harry?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing really. Just this old text about magical creatures. It really isn't going to help us, but it looked kind of interesting, and I thought it might have some stuff I could tell Hagrid about."

"Have you come across anything, mate?" Ron asked as he took the text from Harry and looked at the cover.

Harry sighed, "No…still nothing. I find a spell here or there or a book about dark magic, but they don't seem to have anything in it worthwhile."

"That is so odd," Hermione said contemplatively. "When Sirius was here he had said that it was one of the more extensive ancient text libraries outside of Hogwarts and the Ministry."

Harry looked over at all of the books lining the wall, the memory replaying in his head.

"He did say that, didn't he?"

"Oh Harry, I'm so—"

"Don't worry about it Hermione," Harry looked back at the young witch with a small smile, "Anyways, he was right. There are a lot of books here. I am only about halfway through. If there is something here…then I will find it. I have to."

"And we are going to help!" Ron said in true Gryffindor fashion.

Harry's eyebrows shot up, "You mean you are actually going to start helping me read?"

Ron's resolve faltered, "Well, maybe not that…"

His girlfriend rolled her eyes, "I will keep helping you read Harry. This lug will bring us food whenever we ask."

"If it gets me outa reading, I don't care."

"I thought Kingsley gave you all those books about magical weaponry and armor?"

"Well, yea…but those are really cool."

"Some of these books are really cool."

"Nice try, Harry."

"Bum," the green-eyed teen said with a smile.

"Nerd."

Harry threw his chair pillow at the red head, hitting him in the chest.

"Oho! So that's how you want to play!" Ron said as he took up the pillow and moved to throw it back.

"What did I say about throwing pillows in the library?" Hermione said in a huff as she crossed her arms.

Ron lowered the pillow. Harry smiled as he thought that he was going to get away without consequence.

"You said not to do it," The red head said.

"That's right."

"You didn't say anything about tickling though!" Ron said as he dropped the pillow and made a dash for his dark haired friend.

Harry's eyes widened and he had enough time to leap out of the chair before he was tackled to the ground by Ron.

"Argh! No!" Harry said as he started to laugh. Ron had wasted no time in tickling his shorter best mate mercilessly.

"You two are impossible!" Hermione said to her boyfriend and best friend.

"Hermione! Help!" Harry said in between laughs.

"I will take no part in this. You two are eighteen-years-old, and you still act eleven."

Hermione would have been very convincing in her scolding, if it wasn't for the smile at the corner of her lips.

Ron turned and stuck his tongue out at her as he continued to tickle Harry.

"Very mature," the young witch replied.

"I try. Now, Harry? Still with us?"

"You are evil!" Harry said as he started to hiccup as well as laugh.

"Ah, good, still with us. Now, I won't stop until you say, 'I give.'"

"I give! I give!" Harry's sides were starting to hurt he was laughing so much.

"Awww, that was too easy. Now say, 'I am a nerd.'"

"I am a nerd!"

"Harry, you're supposed to not say these things!"

Harry took a deep breath to try and form his sentence, "I'll have Kreacher clean your room!"

Ron's hands finally stilled. "Well, why didn't you just say so," he said with a grin as he got up off his smaller friend.

Harry continued to lie on the floor and hiccup.

"You need to eat less," he said to Ron

"You need to eat more," Ron volleyed back.

"Harry, you are not going to make that poor house elf clean Ron's disgusting room!" Hermione said indignantly.

The teen smiled, "Course I'm not. It wasn't a bargain…it was a threat."

"What?"

Harry gave a lopsided grin, "If it's too disgusting, Kreacher will just banish things into oblivion."

Harry was still hiccupping and tried, in vain, to hold his breath to get rid of them.

"He took my favorite socks, he did," Ron said grumpily.

"If they were disgusting enough for Kreacher to banish them, then perhaps they shouldn't be your favorites, Ron," Hermione replied as she helped Harry up off the floor.

The gangly red head was about to respond when there was a knock at the double doors. The three teens turned to see Dumbledore open one of the doors and stand in the entryway.

"So sorry to have bothered you three, but I was hoping to speak to young Harry for just a moment," the elder wizard said congenially to his three ex-students and moved back from the door.

Harry nodded and walked over and out the doors to the hallway where Dumbledore stood waiting on him patiently. Harry took in the man's burnt orange robes. He missed the neon colors the man had worn, but these were still a lot better than some days. Today must be a good day. The older man was humming pleasantly and looking at a small portrait of an irate looking Black ancestor. Harry hiccupped his presents and the bearded wizard turned his blue gaze to him.

"I am fond of peanut butter for getting rid of pesky hiccups."

"I'll try that," Harry said, "Is something the matter, sir?"

"Oh, no, nothing of the sort at the present time. I simply came to give you your letter from Minister Fudge," Dumbledore handed over a simple, folded sheet of parchment with the official Ministry seal.

"Hm," Harry said as he took the note and stuffed it quickly in his pocket. He would probably throw it into the fire when he returned to the library. Another huccup. "Thanks, sir."

Dumbledore smirked, "Think nothing of it. Not to worry though, Harry. Minister Fudge is not known for fastidiousness in the face of adversity. He has already had his secretary pen the last few notes. They should stop any day now."

"I'll do a dance when that happens," Harry muttered under his breath.

Dumbledore chuckled, "I am sure several would take part in a dance with you. And please, call me Albus."

"Alright…Albus." Man, that was weird.

"Good man. Oh, I spoke with Professor Snape this afternoon."

Oh.

"He had some interesting things to say about your training."

He didn't.

Did he?

He was even the one who had made him swear to secrecy!

Harry was about to blurt out some excuse when he was saved by fate. At least he thought so.

"He seems to think you are beginning to make real progress. It was quite surprising to hear what almost sounded like halfway positive statements coming from Professor Snape, which can only mean that you have been doing more than improving."

Harry let out a sigh of relief, "Well, thanks, sir…I guess."

Dumbledore smiled, but a moment later it faded, leaving the man looking quite serious, "I know that this is all starting to become quite intense, Harry, but if you stay the course and keep doing as you are, then I have no doubt that things will work out as they should."

Harry felt his head move up and down slowly in agreement, though he wasn't too sure what he was agreeing to. "Yes sir…Albus."

The blue eyes twinkled behind half mooned spectacles, "Well, I shall let you get back to your friends. It is during times like these, that time with friends is time well spent."

Harry blinked and tried to unravel that statement in his mind. While he was still trying to figure it out, his mentor and friend spoke once more.

"Take care, Harry. I shall be leaving on a more extended trip in the coming days and will not be available for our chats. If there is a problem, I have instructed the order members to consult either Professor Snape, Kingsley, or yourself."

"Wha—me? Sir, I don't think that people should—"

He was stopped by the elder man raising his hand calmly. It was not a command, per say, but Harry immediately stopped talking and closed his mouth.

"I have every confidence in you, Harry. Now, I am off. Have a pleasant evening, Harry."

"You too…Albus," Harry said quietly as he watched the powerful, aging wizard as he strolled down the corridor.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind from all the thoughts racing through it. Finally, he landed on one in particular.

'Snape….said I was improving,' Harry pondered as he walked back into the library, completely ignoring his now disappearing hiccups.

He walked back over to Ron and Hermione. The young witch was curled up in her chair reading some ancient tome while her boyfriend looked like he had fallen asleep.

Harry sat back in his chair. He dug out the letter from his pocket, opened it and read the first line.

Same as before.

'Feel guilty.'

Not in so many words, but that was the gist.

He tossed it in the fireplace that was burning nearby.

Snape had said he was improving. Was he serious? All the man had talked about while they were dueling was how terrible he was doing and what a disgrace he was. Which was the truth? Was he lying when they were training?

'Or was he lying to Dumbledore because he is going to get to throw punches at me now on a regular basis?'

Harry shook his head again. He didn't know the answer to that and doubted he ever would.

'This is all getting kinda weird.'

Green eyes looked over at his two friends. Dumbledore's voice drifted through his head.

"_It is during times like these, that time with friends is time well spent."_

Yea, that's true.

Harry hiccupped one last time as he brought out his wand and cast a tickle charm on Ron.

Revenge is sweet.

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Thank you so, so much for Reading Chapter 2!!

Hope it was okay.


	4. The Gloves Go On

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who reviewed. It always means a lot to know that people appreciate one's work. Also, thank you to those who added this story to their alerts and favorites list.

Three cheers for my beta, Invader Shawn! Hip hip Hooray! Hip hip Hooray! Hip hip Hooray!....What? You all don't do Three Cheers anymore? You're so missing out.

*This chapter has foul language in it.  
--Wait a minute! Is that anything like Parslemouth, only with ducks? Cool!  
*No, no. That's _fowl _language and I don't think the readers would appreciate all the quacking.  
--Oh. Well…wouldn't it be great if there was a fowl language and Harry could understand it?  
*Oh man.  
--I wonder what it would be called. Latin is always good! What is the Latin term for duck?  
*Anas.  
--Anas? Really?....Anastongue…Anasmouth…wow, that sounds really dirty….  
*(sighs) Never mind. Please note that there is cussing/cursing/naughty language in this chapter.  
--Quack.

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Chapter 3: The Gloves Go On

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_Uh, Ding ding ding? – Harry Potter_

Severus hated Death Eater meetings.

Loathed them.

Held a great abhorrence towards them.

The list could go on and on.

But it begins to get redundant.

So let it be known that if given the choice between being summoned by Voldemort and teaching a room full of Longbottoms while dressed in drag, Severus would be wearing a dress.

When he had first joined the ranks of the Death Eaters, he had been extremely young and impressionable. As a teen he had thought that Voldemort and his men were for the promotion of Wizard-kind. They had talked about sanctity of blood, the empowerment of wizards everywhere, and of the necessity to completely separate muggle and wizard life. That had been the pitch he had received from fellow Death Eaters. Young Severus had believed every word, and coming from a dysfunctional home because of an abusive, close-minded, muggle father, he had really took to heart the ideal that wizards should only stay with their own kind. So it was on the eve of his graduation from Hogwarts that Severus took the Dark Mark and joined the ranks with men and women who he had thought were going to make things better.

Now that he was older and very much wiser, he saw these people for what they truly were.

Cowards.

Manipulative, power-hungry, self-serving cowards.

And Severus could not help but feel that he was one as well.

He had been led to do terrible things after he had joined the Death Eaters. Horrible things. In the very beginning, he did question what they were doing, but be under _Crucio _a few times and one will stop questioning just about anything. In the end, he began to believe that torturing and killing were all steps to making the wizarding world a better place.

Severus never actually lifted his own wand to kill during his time as a Death Eater. No, because of his talent for Potions, his main job was to brew the necessary potions needed. Some of those did include poisons.

Very powerful poisons.

Poisons that killed.

Very well.

During the missions he did go on, he was usually the medic, and while he did cast spells and fight, he was also in charge of making sure his fellow Death Eaters got what they needed if injured.

Slowly though, Severus had begun to question again.

He never voiced it. Not like before.

No, now he had developed more cunning.

He began to realize that what they were doing wasn't helping Wizard-kind, only themselves. Actually, more so only Voldemort. Eventually, he realized he wanted out. Completely. No one left Voldemort, though. It would be like going up to a raging bull, wearing nothing but red, and doing the can-can in front of it. It was more than a certainty that one was not going to make it out alive. Severus should know.

He had witnessed it.

It had been only a few months before Voldemort had vanished after killing Potter's parents that Severus received his opportunity.

Voldemort wanted a spy.

And he chose Severus.

The Dark Lord had assigned him to infiltrate Hogwarts.

A teaching position in the area of Potions had just become available.

Severus had gone for his interview with Dumbledore, and could tell the man knew right off the bat that he was a Death Eater. Severus spent the next hour with his hand beside his wand, waiting to be attacked.

No attack came though.

He had gotten the job.

Years later, Severus realized that the old coot must have known that Severus was becoming disenchanted with his alliance to Voldemort, and knew that he could use Severus for his tactical needs.

Sneaky old man.

His suspicions had been confirmed when, a few weeks later, Dumbledore had arranged to see how the new Professor was fairing over tea. During their time, the older man had asked—in a voice that might as well have been asking for another scone—if Severus was a Death Eater. The younger man did not answer right away, but eventually confirmed what the older wizard had said. The Headmaster had only asked one question after that: did Severus want out?

That is how Severus had first agreed to be a double agent. It was true, there was no way for him to officially leave the Death Eaters alive, but he had denounced them in all ways conceivable and had—under much secrecy and with a lot of pushing from Dumbledore—joined the Order of the Phoenix.

Perhaps this would atone him of his crimes.

Then Voldemort disappeared.

Thanks to a little baby.

Severus was free.

Well, somewhat free.

Okay, not at all free.

The Order really did not believe that Voldemort was gone completely, and those amongst the Death Eaters who were able to get out of any type of retribution required Severus keep up with his façade. More so than that was his lack of absolution.

That came in the form of his job. Dumbledore offered for him to keep his job, even though he technically did not have to spy any longer. Severus did not like teaching; had never liked teaching. He felt that the required patience to make the little snot-noses learn the art of potions was above and beyond him in ways he could not even fathom.

It was terrible.

It was a punishment.

Which was exactly what he thought he needed.

So for fourteen years he taught dunderheaded witches and wizards; every few years, one or two would actually possess some extent of talent, and equally so, he would wind up with a Longbottom or two that would balance it out.

Then Voldemort had returned, and Severus was once again asked to take up his role as the spy once again.

So here he was.

Standing in a small, dimly lit room with several other Death Eaters all clad in the same dark black robes.

It was during times like these, when nothing important was occurring, that Severus had to find some way to amuse himself or he would surely go insane.

'Lestrange looks particularly grotesque today. Although it does look like he put a little effort into his appearance. He brushed his tooth. Heaven help him if he ever loses that thing.'

He took a sip of wine, no doubt from Malfoy's collection, and continued to observe. Shame that he ended up in Azkaban.

Not really.

Severus was happy for one thing, though. His godson, Draco, had disappeared, along with his mother, right after graduation. Severus didn't even know where they were, and was glad to keep it that way. Draco may have been a spoiled brat, but he did not deserve the life Severus had chosen. Voldemort did not even bat an eye when the two vanished. In fact, even though the Malfoy's were not amongst their ranks any longer—or perhaps because of this fact—Voldemort had set his headquarters in the illustrious manor the three blondes had once called home.

Severus brought himself out of his melancholy thoughts and returned to the present time.

'Oh, how nice, Macmillan is trying to impress the other Death Eaters with some tale of torturing a muggle. Little do they know, Macmillan is afraid of muggles. If I remember correctly, Macmillan, the last time you encountered a muggle, you screamed like a girl. Yes, very macho.'

Bellatrix was laughing and spinning around the room. She loved Death Eater Meetings.

'Crazy bitch.'

He looked at other Death Eaters.

'He is inbred. She has slept with half the other cronies. That one cannot form a complete sentence without losing a few brain cells. Ah, that is quite nice. Fritson is talking to Jankle and Jankle has been robbing from Fritson's company for years. I might just tell Fritson that sometime soon. We have not had a fight in a long time.'

Instantly, Severus's mind shifted from his current company to a certain green-eyed teen and their fight nearly a week ago. Green eyes focused so intensely. The power around the boy at the time.

Severus shook his head. He must be getting too disinterested if his thoughts were floating to Potter.

Severus was more than glad that no one here had any sort of ability at Legimens. Not that any sort of talent would help. He was the best Occlumens around.

The only other that could be considered his equal was Dumbledore.

But Severus liked to think that this was one thing that he bested the old man at.

Every man did this.

It is a way to feel a little superior to those he feels as his rivals.

They have to find something that's bigger. Something they are the best at.

So for Severus it was, 'My brain is bigger than your brain. Nany nany boo boo.'

Alright, so Severus would never say such a thing as "nany nany boo boo."

But he did think it at times.

Finally, Voldemort entered the room and took his seat in a large, wing-backed chair. The little rat, Wormtail, was following after him like the dog he was. Snake-like red eyes roamed over his hoards of minions.

"Assemble!" the pale white half-monster bellowed.

The group present quickly formed in a semicircle. The meeting progressed in the same, uninteresting fashion. Different Death Eaters would get up and make their reports about the different missions going on and would either receive praise or punishment for the result. Severus never paid any attention to this part. He got sick of the insipid prostrating the followers would go through, and he especially grew ill when listening to Voldemort's smooth words of praise that were nothing but hot air and lies. The screams that occurred if a mission did not go as planned also got really old.

Voldemort rarely praised.

He always found fault.

Finally, towards the end of the meeting, Severus knew to draw his attention back to the room and listen intently to all that was going on. This was the time that Voldemort would finally discuss future missions.

"I believe the time hasss come my followersss to move forward in our effortssss," the evil wizard began as his snake, Nagini, came up and curled beside him.

Severus wondered if he truly talked in that snake-like manner, or if the man talked like that simply for show.

"We need to ssstrike the Order in a more formal fassshion. We have talked of thisss before, but now isss the perfect time to attack."

Severus listened as the dark Lord mapped out a plan of attack that would occur in a month's time. Before that, several smaller missions were to take place. There were to be several raids on both muggle and wizarding cities. Severus mentally cursed when the snake man did not disclose the names of those cities. That only meant one thing: Voldemort was going to be the leader of these missions from here on out. He would only disclose as much information as he saw fit, which was barely any at all.

"We are through with thesssse ussselesssss missions, my sssubjectsss. It is time to ssstart sssshowing our true power!"

Several of the Death Eaters began to cheer, fully believing that if they went through with this that they too would be rich and powerful.

'Deluded fools,' Severus thought as he stayed motionless. He did not fear any kind of suspicion for his lack of enthusiasm. Severus was never known as the celebrating kind.

The meeting adjourned shortly after the little 'pep talk.' Now it was Severus's turn. Voldemort never had him speak in front of the larger assembly, afraid that there were spies amongst the lower ranks and that Severus's role as their spy would be revealed. Severus almost laughed when he thought about this.

Almost.

As was the routine, he approached the high chair and bowed. Since he was so high up in the rankings, now that Malfoy was out of the picture, he did not have to bow as such, but Severus knew it fed the monster's ego, and he always wanted him in a good mood for his reports. It made him less likely to invade his mind. Voldemort required Severus drop his Occlumency shields when they spoke. Severus combat this by thinking up fake memories and putting them in the forefront of his mind.

"Sssso, SSSeverusssss," Voldemort began.

Severus really wished he didn't have so many damn s's in his name.

"What issss our illussstrious Order up to right now?"

Severus would tell his half-truths; that was what it was all about. He could not lie outright, because the whole trick with the constructed memories were that there were only some differences from the original memory, making it easier to construct and make strong. A completely made-up memory is fuzzy, rough, and very easy to spot if one is a true Legilimens. So he would tell of the training several of the members were going through, but would lie about progresses or what specifics they were learning. He would discuss certain missions, but would change crucial details like location or date. He had become so good at mixing lies with the truth that Voldemort rarely, if ever, entered his mind to double check his findings.

"That isss all good to hear, Ssseverusss. Now, what of our Harry and Albusss?"

'Potter's a lucky brat. His first and last name has no s's.'

"Potter is still training under my instruction."

"Ah yesss, and I am sssure you make it…mossst enjoyable for him."

"Quite." Severus said as he put on a smirk.

When he had told Voldemort that he was training the boy, the man had been pleased, believing that Severus could torture and destroy the boy's spirits in the name of training. Severus had already been told by Dumbledore to get Potter to do wandless magic, so the two orders almost coincided. He would get Potter riled up in attempts to unlock his power, and all he would have to change is the boy's reaction and Voldemort was delighted.

He had actually started to ease up on Potter after their fist fight last week, but now that Voldemort was planning on going on all these missions, he may need to step it up again to get the boy to progress faster.

"Excellent! I alwayssss knew Albusss wasss a fool. What isss the leader doing?"

"He is away," Severus said. "He left nearly a week ago for a mission of some sort of good will nonsense. And will most likely not be back for another week."

"Where did he go?" Red eyes narrowed. Voldemort never trusted Dumbledore.

"I believe to France to speak to the Giant and elf communities down there."

"Aha, how unfortunate," Voldemort said with a sickly smile. "The Giant community isss already under my direction. I hope that he found hissss welcome pleassssant."

"Indeed, My Lord."

These were all lies. Yes, Dumbledore had left on a mission of good will, but he was still in Great Britain. He was south, at the coast, discussing an alliance with the side of the Light and the oceanic Merpeople. The people of the sea had very rare potion ingredients as well as high standing with other magical creatures throughout the land.

"Now, there isss jussst one lassst thing to attend to." A bony, paste white hand raised an equally white wand and pointed it at Severus's head, "_Legilimens!_"

Severus was already prepared, and had his constructed memories of Potter and Dumbledore right up front and strong. He could feel the presence of Voldemort in his mind, it felt like death warmed over, and felt him reviewing through all the memories he had given the man to look at. If he tried to go any farther, Severus had a wall of memories of potion ingredients and techniques right behind them to throw the dark leader off.

Severus instantly reconstructed his walls as he felt the tyrannical man leave his brain. His mind always felt more tainted than usual after that. Dirty. It was all part of the punishment, though. That small wish that someday he will feel as though he had made up for the terrible things he had done in his youth.

Severus did not know if that day would ever come.

"You are free to go, Sssseverusss. I look forward to our next dissscussion."

"As do I, My Lord," Severus responded automatically with a bow.

He quickly exited the room. He knew it was time to go when he too felt like stressing his s's and sounding like a snake. He wondered if Wormtail talked like that now since he was around the Dark Lord all day.

'Probably,' Severus thought as he made his way out the exit. His mind played an image of the Master and his little rat having a conversation sounding like air being let out of a tire.

He really hoped he did not feel the burning pain of his Dark Mark calling him for a while.

He hated these Death Eater meetings.

Severus didn't even wish to think what would happen if he was called to fight again.

He felt wound up. He was desperately tired of this double agent life, but he could not see any sort of way out. He felt his shoulders tense at the thought of this continuing into the unforeseeable future.

Because the longer this war lasted, the better Severus's chances were at being caught.

And killed.

Well, first tortured.

Then killed.

Have to keep such things in order.

It's only proper.

This was a selfish reason to wish and work for the end of the war, but Severus justified it by the fact that it was not his only reason—though it was very high up on the list—and he was a Slytherin after all.

Severus finally made it to the apparation spot. The past two meetings had been during the day, making the manor seem not as ominous. However, now, under darkness with only a few candles scattered throughout, Severus was reminded of those old ghost stories he used to hear as a child. He shook his head and turned quickly to apparate back to his quarters at Hogwarts.

Once he was settled in his bed for the night, his mind went over what his life had become. He was a puppet between two very powerful wizards, and although it was his choice in the matter to help the Order, it made his life completely not his own.

He was actually quite glad that tomorrow was Friday, and that he would be having his first official boxing match with Harry. He would never tell the boy in a million years that his idea was a good one, but right now it almost seemed genius. Severus really needed to let off some steam.

The Potion Master eventually extinguished all the lights in the room with a muttered, "_Nox_," and tried to fight the nightmares for a decent night's sleep.

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Harry lay awake, staring at the ceiling of his room.

He was somewhat glad that the bed was not a four-poster like his one at Hogwarts had been. Those beds were nice and provided warmth and privacy—something very much appreciated in a large, cold castle in a room with four other boys—but towards the end, he began to sleep with his curtains open anyway. His constant nightmares had made him slightly claustrophobic when the curtains were drawn.

He needed the space.

Needed to know that the nightmare wasn't real.

That was the reason he was awake tonight.

Another nightmare.

They happened almost every night.

There was a little comfort in the fact that it was not Voldemort feeding him images anymore thanks to Occlumency, but he still couldn't stop the images in his brain from coming out to play when he closed his eyes.

He was tired of waking up screaming.

Harry reached up and rubbed his eyes until he saw the little stars and lines begin to form behind his eyelids. It almost seemed like a gesture to get rid of the sights in his mind, but it was really just because his eyes were so tired they ached. The ebony haired teen left his hands over his eyes for a minute as the stars faded away.

This week had been…different.

When Dumbledore—Albus—had said almost a week ago that he had made Harry one of the people in charge until he got back, Harry had thought the older man was nuts. He may be the Chosen One, but that did not mean he could tell people what to do. Right?

Right.

But then, people started asking him stuff.

He began to get questions about continuing surveillance missions, and whether or not they should follow certain individuals who had connections with the Death Eaters.

Harry had done his best to answer the questions, trying to remember everything that Albus had taught him over the years, as well as try and rely on what he had learned on his own, and even managed to give out instruction on what to do next or in case something out of the ordinary happened. There had been no true attacks, but the Death Eaters were definitely becoming more mobile. He had asked Kingsley a couple of times for his advice, and the seasoned auror was happy to help out, but left the decision up to Harry if the question had been directed towards the young man. What unnerved Harry the most was when Kingsley, in turn, would ask for his advice on a decision as well. He didn't know if he liked this leader stuff. He couldn't imagine people actually taking orders from him.

Snape hadn't done that.

The Potions professor was also one of those left in charge, but the man always kept to himself, and no one came to him with a question or for direction. Why? Because they would have gotten their heads bitten off, that's why. Harry figured that Snape had been left in charge in case a fight was to break out. Since his role as a spy offered him inside information, he would be the one to turn to in case the Death Eaters decided to attack.

Snape hadn't changed much since last Friday.

He still did not talk to anyone unless absolutely necessary. He gave a report at the weekly Order meeting about the Death Eater activities. Mostly that they were going to start attacking more and more civilians in the upcoming weeks and that Voldemort was getting more confident.

Training continued on in the same fashion, although Harry did notice that Snape's teaching had lost a certain edge. Not that Harry was complaining, but other than that, the two spoke to each other as they always had. In other words, they fought or Snape just ignored him altogether.

Harry was kind of relieved that the dour man still treated him the same as always, even if it was just a step up from complete and utter dirt. Snape didn't see him as some chosen leader. Snape just saw him as a kid.

Normal.

In over his head.

Exactly what Harry felt like.

Harry removed his hand and opened his green eyes to look once again at the dark room. He heard a snore coming from next-door, and realized that Ron had forgot to cast a silencing spell on his room. He had been forgetting more and more lately. Harry couldn't help but smile a little bit.

Ron had thought when he would begin studying wizarding armament with Kingsley that he would get to just look at weapons and armor all day long. Kingsley, as it turned out, was so enthusiastic about having an apprentice that he had decided that anything less than a thorough and complete training would be a disservice to the young Weasley.

So gone was the laid-back Kingsley. Now, the man could give McGonagall a run for her money.

Ron had several books that he had to study and he already had to take a test over what he had learned in the first few chapters. He was constantly muttering different spells that would give protection and shielding to things like clothes and shoes, and he had started to learn how to design different armor depending on battle situations, just in case the Head Auror decided to give him a pop quiz. Kingsley expected Ron to know his stuff when he started teaching the teen how to make armor and swords beginning next spring.

Until then, he would be doing theoretical work and learning basic spells and charms that provided maintenance and repair to the already made armory the Order had. That was to be his job when they went out on missions or if they went into battle.

Harry was impressed.

Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were proud.

Ron was exhausted.

But to his credit, the redhead seemed to be sticking with it. He would grumble and complain about the work—sometimes quite loudly, too—but he did it. What's more, he had only asked for Hermione's help twice in the two weeks since he started. This fact had made Hermione nervous and she had begun to read over Ron's shoulder whenever the young man was writing his reports. She had yet to be caught doing this, but Harry could just imagine the fight that would take place when it did.

That one would be popcorn worthy.

'We don't have any popcorn here…. Maybe I should go buy popcorn…. I wonder if anyone else would eat it if we got some around here…. Dumbledore would…. I wonder if Snape eats popcorn…'

Harry blinked and rubbed his eyes once again.

Strange where one's mind goes when they were really tired.

The messy haired wizard turned over and decided to battle it out with his nightmares once more. Maybe he would win this time. Harry hoped so.

He needed the sleep.

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Late.

Harry was late.

He was in so much trouble.

Last night ended up leaving the young man exhausted, and he had ended up sleeping through breakfast. Why no one had woke him up, he didn't know. They always said he needed more sleep, but they also didn't want him dead either, and if Snape was waiting on him, he was surely in deep trouble. He had finally entered the land of the conscious at exactly ten o'clock.

Nothing like waking up to a heart attack to make a day extra special.

Harry quickly threw off his pajamas and grabbed his glasses and wand after he threw on a baggy, blue shirt, faded, old jeans and strapped his wand holder around his thigh. He hopped down the hallway as he put on his trainers and began to run down towards the stairs.

He stopped mid-stride.

He had forgotten the gloves.

He turned around quickly and went back the way he had just come

Tonks had been really cool about getting them for him. In the beginning she had been curious about why he needed such things. Harry had just shrugged and said he was interested in boxing, is all. The witch had just smiled, and when she returned the next day, she had handed him over a small bag that contained two shrunk pairs of red fighting gloves.

Harry ran into his room and grabbed the still shrunk bag and stuffed it in his pocket before he dashed off once again. He bounded down the stairs three or four steps at a time and sprinted towards the foyer when he hit the bottom landing.

'Maybe I will luck out and he will be—'

Harry came skidding to a halt.

Snape was standing in the entryway in the middle of the Persian rug. The dark man looked about ready to skin something alive.

Harry had a pretty good feeling that something was him.

"You are late."

"Yea, I know. I—"

"No excuses. You have wasted my time, little boy. Let's go!"

He was gone in a torrid spin of black robes.

'And things were going a little bit better,' Harry thought with a sigh as he got his wand at the ready and dissaperated to their training spot.

As soon as his feet hit the dirt, he was hit by a stinging hex.

"That could have easily been an Unforgivable!" Snape yelled as he threw another spell.

The battle was on.

The Snape of the past few days—the one who had began to ease up a little on Harry—was gone. The taunting was back in full force and possibly even worse. The two went back and forth casting hexes and curses. Harry tried his hardest to stay away from his more basic spells like _expeliarmus _and had improved on his shielding spells, but several of his more advanced Hexes needed more power.

"You are weak!" Snape bellowed as he easily blocked a spell.

Harry just gritted his teeth. He didn't want to argue. He would just let out his frustration when they had their boxing match later. If Snape even let them.

He managed to hit the older wizard a couple of times with a few stinging hexes and a _confundus_ curse later on during the duel. Snape was able to recover quite quickly though, so Harry wasn't able to get any other hits before the man was lucid again.

"Nice try, little brat, but you don't have the power to do any sort of damage."

Harry was proud of the fact that he did not get hit as much as he usually did, but he was running around a lot more and was getting tired. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath and got hit in the lower back by a spell that, by the feel of things, was a pummel charm. He fell forward onto the ground and had to jump up fast in case the Potions Master was nearby or decided to throw an even more powerful spell.

"You would be dead now. Or someone you would be protecting would be dead. You are a failure!" Snape wasn't throwing any more spells.

He was standing right in front of Harry with his arms crossed and a sneer on his face. Harry wondered for a split second how the man was able to move so fast, but he didn't get to ponder this question as Snape went on with his glowing review.

"You are a disappointment to the wizarding world. You love the fact that you are a celebrity, but you do not want to do the work that is involved. You just want the world to love you and you can just lay back and let everyone else fight the war."

"That's not true!"

"Silence! You are spoiled. You have had the whole world given to you on this platter. You have adults bending over backwards for you, and you just keep taking and taking, and you will never do anything to help anyone."

"Stop this!" Harry yelled as his body started to go rigid. Was Snape trying to make him hit him again? Harry could feel his anger getting to him again.

"You sleep till all hours of the day and believe that is your right. Your precious daddy was just the same. He felt the world was owed to him. He was better than everyone else. The only difference is you seem to be even more of a dunderhead than him. You are manipulative and greedy."

"Tell me how my fighting is," Harry said through gritted teeth as he dusted the dirt and grass off of his shirt. He was supposed to be critiquing his fighting. Not attacking his character.

Severus snorted derisively, "There is nothing to talk about. You can't fight. You are hopeless. You and your friends are about as useless as a block of rocks."

"Leave Ron and Hermione out of this!"

"Mr. Weasley can't take anything seriously. Between his idiocies and your inadequacies, it is a wonder Dumbledore isn't just calling it quits and surrendering to the Dark Lord."

"Are you done?"

"Nothing else I could possibly say will help, so I guess we are done."

"Good. Let's fight!" Harry pulled the small bag out of his pocket and enlarged it with a flick of his wand. He wasn't even aware that he hadn't said a spell. He opened the bag and took out the two pairs of gloves and threw one of them to Snape.

"You're obviously in one of your moods and I really wanna hit you again, so let's go!" Harry said as he put his wand in its holder, and began to put his gloves on.

Severus quirked his eyebrow. "In a hurry, Potter?" he sneered.

"Whatever," Harry said as he hit his padded fists together a couple of times to get use to the new weight around his hands. He put both fists up at the ready.

Severus pointed his wand towards his mouth and flicked his wrist in an obvious spell movement. He pointed his wand at Harry's head, and though the man had just been harassing him, Harry didn't flinch as the man repeated the wand movement.

"For teeth," Snape said as he began to remove his robes.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked in agitated confusion, his initial anger ebbing.

"I will not need full robes to box, Mr. Potter," Snape said as he removed his black robes completely, revealing a collared button down and grey slacks.

Harry had never seen the man in muggle attire before, and it was throwing him off. Snape was lean, yet he seemed to have much more muscle than the black robes revealed. He knew the man was fit. It was obvious by the fact that he could run and duck and dodge for hours on end as they trained, but it was so odd to see the man in such a manner.

He seemed so much more human.

Snape wasn't the dark, looming force of hateful nature that plagued Hogwarts students and Harry with his overpowering presence and scathing tongue.

Now he just looked like a man.

'With really broad shoulders.'

Whoa.

Wait a second.

Harry realized he was staring at said man's body still and shook his head and looked down.

'I'm just wierded out 'cause he always wears robes. That's all. He is still the same Snape. Still a giant git.'

The teen looked back up to see the older wizard waiting, his gloved hands at the ready. It was almost comical to see the sardonic man with large, red hands at the end of his white cotton clad arms.

Not that Harry would ever openly laugh at Snape.

At least not to his face.

"At your signal Potter?" The taller man prompted.

Harry nodded and brought his hands up.

"Uh, Ding ding ding?"

Snape rolled his eyes but stepped forward and took the first swing.

Harry easily blocked it and began to return his own hits to his dueling instructor.

Left punch.

Right hit.

Block.

Duck.

Foot-work.

Harry began to lose himself in the movements just like he did the last time. The close quarter fight was intense and demanding.

Dueling was also intense, but it was all mostly magic and running. This was all physical and he did not have to think about his strategy. He just got out of the way and hit when he could. While that theory could work in a duel, Snape was so far advanced that the teen had to have a plan of attack to even stay close to par with his instructor. Harry had to plan his spells out well in advance and pray that Snape didn't change up his own moves in between now and then. Here, though, Snape wasn't a boxer and neither was he. Their entire training in the matter had come from when they were both bullied as children.

Harry came around and hit Snape in the side with a right hook and came up with his left to try and hit the man up higher, but he was blocked by Snape's arm.

The teen took a hit or two in the face and knew that Snape was going to have to heal his nose when he was done.

'I wonder if it's broken.'

The pain was also a form of release. Harry would have never pegged himself as a masochist—in fact, until very recently, if someone had mentioned the word, they would have gotten a confused look and a, 'Huh?' out of him—but the pain felt almost like an anchor. Like Snape, it was a firm reminder that he was just human and not some glorified 'Golden Boy' or 'Chosen One.'

A little different?

For sure.

But then Harry would be the first to say that he was a little different.

The punches and blocks continued on, both men getting their fair share of bumps and bruises. The minutes ticked on, and even though both men were tired, they did not want to stop.

Harry's mind began to wander as the movements became almost a subconscious movement. He thought about this week and his desire to not have people consider him the leader, because what if Snape was right? What if he was a failure? What if he wasn't enough? What if he ended up getting everyone killed? He had already gotten Sirius killed. He wasn't enough then. What if he got his any one of his friends killed next? He was not a powerful wizard. If he was, then he would have been able to improve in dueling more so than he had. Snape might have told Dumbledore that he was improving, but it was obvious that that was a lie. It was all a lie.

'I'm going to get everyone killed.'

Harry didn't realize it, but his hits were becoming increasingly harder and he was becoming more aggressive. He was lost in his own world completely.

'I hate that I can't seem to get any of this right. I hate that every other wizard in the wizarding world thinks I am supposed to be some sort of big savior. I just don't want to be so weak!'

Harry swung around his arm to strike Snape in the side. The second Harry made contact—or what he thought was contact—he started violently in surprise as he felt a terrible burst of magic, and saw Snape fly back a few yards to land on the ground with a muffled WHUMP!

Harry reeled, his vision began to blur despite his glasses, and he suddenly felt the urge to sit down.

Now.

Thunk!

'Hello ground, we meet again.' Harry thought dumbly as he stared at the slightly blurry figure of Snape get up quickly from where he laid on the ground. He saw the red gloves come off the cotton-sleeved arms as the man marched over to where he sat. Even with his vision out of whack, Harry could see the deep scowl on the older man's face.

"How did you do that? Tell me!"

Harry looked up at the looming man and tried to focus his eyes.

"Did what?"

Snape snorted. "Idiot," he muttered, but Harry realized in the back of his fuzzy brain that the insult didn't carry as much heat as it usually did. "How did you do wandless magic?"

'So that's what that was.'

"I dunno."

"Oh, for the love of—what were you thinking about right before it happened. Anything?" Snape asked in exasperation.

Harry had to think back. "Uh…I was thinking about failing. About letting everyone down. About not wanting to be weak."

Harry didn't think he should be this open with Snape. The man had a knack of taking such personal things and using them in his taunts; however, he was still somewhat out of it, and it seemed to be his natural response to just answer the man standing over him.

"That is what finally accomplished it?"

Severus could not believe this. Here he had taunted and prodded Potter for months, and all it took to get the boy to perform wandless magic was for him to wish to not be weak? He refused to believe that was all there was. He began pacing near the seated teen, trying to figure out what the actual cause of the sudden achievement of wandless magic.

"Impossible. Tell me what else!"

Harry's eyes followed Snape as he paced back and forth. That lasted for only about two minutes before the movement made Harry dizzy so he stopped.

"That was it. We were fighting and that's what I was thinking."

Then a moment of clarity dawned in Harry's mind.

"Finally?"

Snape stopped his pacing. "Excuse me?"

"You said, 'finally accomplished it,' a minute ago. What did you mean by that?"

"That is—"

"Please? I think I have the right to know."

Did he just say please to Snape?

The wandless magic must have affected him more than he thought.

"You are injured," Snape said as he walked over and began to cast the necessary charms to heal Harry's wounds.

Harry simply nodded and allowed the man to heal him. He wasn't going to get his answer.

When the last of his injuries from the boxing match were healed, Snape stood up and began to cast the charms on himself. Silence ensued.

"I was trying to get you angry."

"Huh?"

Harry's vision was still on the hazy side, so he missed Snape rolling his eyes. "I said, Potter, that I was trying to get you angry."

"Oh. You know you don't really have to try at that, don't you?"

He heard a snort above him that could have almost passed as a chuckle.

Almost.

Not quite.

"I am aware of that; however, this was for the purpose of getting you to such an emotional state that you would transcend from your comfortable power level and exert a more forceful magical presence."

Oh, well when you put it that way…

"Say what now?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Difficult brat. I sometimes think you have no vocabulary at all. I have been trying to get you angry so that you will perform wandless magic. That had been one of the main goals for these little training sessions."

"Oh…. Wait, hang on," Harry said as he made to stand up. "Are you telling me that this whole time that you have been taunting me and throwing out all the verbal abuse, it was because you were trying to get me to—"

Harry had finally managed to stand when black spots began to form in front of his eyes. Perhaps standing was not the best course of action. The ground was nice. The ground was Harry's friend.

"I need to sit back down."

Harry quickly fell back to the ground before he passed out. Knowing Snape, the man may just as well leave him in the field again.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Harry looked up to see Snape standing right over him again.

"You like to loom, don't you?"

"I will take that to mean that it has been a while."

Harry watched as Snape walked over to his robes a few paces away and retrieved something out of his pockets. He came back over and uncorked a small vial, handing it to the sitting, green-eyed teen.

"Drink."

"What is it?"

"Poison."

"Oh." Harry took it back in one gulp.

Replenishment Potion.

Harry felt his vision solidify and the wooziness he had been feeling dissipate some.

"Reckless, moronic child. What if that had been poison?"

Harry's only reply was a shrug as he handed the vial back to Snape who quickly banished the small, glass tube.

"So you've been taunting me to get me angry for months so that I would do wandless magic?" Harry tried again as he stood. He was relieved when his vision stayed intact and his legs did not give out from under him. He looked up into dark eyes.

"That is correct, Potter. Voldemort is planning on being more involved in Death Eater goings-on. He will be expecting you to make an appearance, as you usually do, and you have to be able to have some sort of an advantage when you face him. However, I have reached the conclusion that my manner of motivation is possibly not as beneficial to the goal as I would have wished it to be."

Harry snorted. "Yea, no shit!"

Nice.

Severus's eyebrows rose so high that Harry thought they would pop right off his head.

"Uh, no shit…sir?"

Real nice.

Harry thought though, that he had seen the edges of Snape's mouth twitched ever-so-slightly upwards for a split second after he had said that.

But, just as quickly, it was gone and Harry was left to wonder if seeing Snape almost…smile…had been a figment of his imagination.

"Well then, Mr. Potter, since you appear to be so enthusiastic about this, what do you suggest the new plan of action to be?"

"You're asking me?"

"I am certainly not asking the tree."

Harry stood there and tried to think about how to go about this. He had no idea about how to go about learning wandless magic. He wracked his brain as Snape walked over and redressed in his long, black robes. He had time to fasten all of the tiny buttons, adjust his cuffs and walk back over to where the teen stood without receiving his answer.

"Have you strained something in your attempt at cogitation, Potter?"

Harry shook himself out of his ponderings. He glowered at Snape, "No. And I think I may have thought of something."

"Be still, my heart."

The teen's bright green eyes rolled behind his glasses. "What about meditation?"

"Perfect, Professor Trelawney, you have struck gold," Snape said as he crossed his arms.

"It's not anything like that. I read in a book—and yes, I can read, thank you very much—where there is a type of meditation that can allow a witch or wizard to better access their magic."

"That sounds completely farfetched."

Harry shrugged and ran his hand through his hair. "You liked my last idea," he said as he waved towards the red gloves lying on the ground.

The Potions professor looked down at the gloves and seemed to be doing a bit of thinking of his own.

"You are not under any delusions that if—and that is a very big if, mind you—we undertake your hair brained idea that I will begin to sing your praises? You are still quite brainless and hopeless in several aspects of life."

"I think I would be scared if you started singing my praises," Harry said as he checked to make sure his wand was still in its holder. He walked over through the crunching leaves and began picking up the gloves and putting them back in the bag.

'It's getting really cold. I wonder when it is going to start to snow.'

He shrank the bag and returned it to his pocket. He took a few more steps after that before his vision began to go downhill again.

He swayed.

'The black spots are back. Hi, black spots.'

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter," Snape growled as he came up and grabbed Harry by the arm and began to half drag – half assist the teen to the apparition spot. "The Replenishment Potion is not a fix-all. I would think you would dedicate at least a few brain cells to remembering to eat."

Harry allowed the man to keep hold of his arm. He really didn't need to fall down again. "Wasn't it you who said before that I didn't have a brain?"

"Hmm. Indeed."

The two walked to the apparation spot and returned to Grimmauld Place in silence. Well, it was silent until they made it to the foyer. Much to Harry's dismay, Mrs. Weasley had stopped by with lunch. Snape merely pushed Harry towards the motherly woman and announced Harry's lack of meals and his current state as a result. Harry glared back at the man as Mrs. Weasley all but dragged him by his ear to the kitchen, her normal rant playing in fast speed.

'Giant, potion peddling tattle-tale!'

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Thank you for reading Chapter 3!

I love to get reviews, so let me know what you guys think!


	5. Christmas Bells, Those Christmas Bells

**A/N: **Thanks to anyone and everyone who reviewed and added this story to their alerts. Y'all all awesome!

A glorious and resounding round of applause for the great **Invader Shawn**. She catches my homonyms, misspellings, bad grammar…whoa…she has to do a lot.

It's Christmas in July! I am noticing a pattern with my writing. I always have to have a Christmas chapter…or two. But Christmas is, well, Christmas! Anyways, the title for this chapter is from one of my all time favorite Christmas songs. Plus, I kinda think the song fits the feel of this Chapter. Kudos to anyone who can guess which one!

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Chapter 4: Christmas Bells, Those Christmas Bells

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_I must be losing my mind to agree to such idiocy. – Severus Snape_

'Calm breathing…inhale…exhale…find your magic…find your…blue light?'

Harry opened his verdant eyes to see a bright blue, glowing bauble floating just in front of his face. He gently pushed it away with his finger, watching it dance along in the air in the library. It joined up with other brightly colored, glittering orbs and made a lovely choreographed dance that held the young man's attention for several minutes before he remembered that he was suppose to be concentrating.

Harry decided that it was near impossible to meditate during Christmas time.

Dobby had come in four days ago and turned the whole of Grimauld Place into a Christmas Explosion. There were holly wreathes everywhere, garland, floating baubles, mistletoe, and a large Christmas tree in the drawing room that the three teens had helped decorate with all sorts of ornaments, string garland, and fairy lights. They were certain Kreacher was going to have a heart attack. Harry already had to ask Kreacher nicely not to burn any of the wreathes on the doors.

Or the tree.

Or the baubles.

Or anything else Christmas, for that manner.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes again. He was supposed to clear his mind and focus on only his magic, but two minutes into any attempt found Harry humming "Silver Bells." The book had said to find a sort of mantra in order to focus, but everything he thought of sounded silly, and in the end, Christmas songs were always so much more fun. He had thought maybe it would be smart to find somewhere quiet in the house so that he wouldn't have any distractions. But every room in the house—including the attic, and yes, Harry had tried there first—had floating ornaments, music, or both.

Truth be told, Harry would have been distracted even if he had found a spot that was completely silent and still. It was Christmas, and no matter how old he got, ever since he had turned eleven and had his first real Christmas at Hogwarts, Harry turned into a little kid as soon as the first carol was played on the wireless.

The messy haired, young man was just starting to hum the first part of "Silver Bells" once again when the doors to the library opened, admitting two redheads and a brunette into the large study. Ginny had arrived yesterday for the winter holiday, and Ron was already about to go nuts.

"Just how many of those things have you eaten today?" the red headed, seventeen-year-old girl said in disgust as she watched her older brother gnawing on a candy cane.

"I dunno. I lofst coun afer ten," Ron said around the sweet.

"You look like a dog chewing on a bone."

"Thank you, Ginny! That is exactly what I told him four candy canes ago!" Hermione said in triumph.

The three teens stopped in their walk when they came upon Harry sitting on the floor of the library by the fireplace with his legs criss-crossed and tucked under him. He had tried to sit like the book had shown, with his legs crossed and his feet resting on his knees, but he felt far too silly and didn't think it made that much of a difference where his feet were anyway.

That, and when he tried it the first time he had gotten stuck.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said as he finally removed the candy from his mouth. "You know they make chairs for that kinda thing. They've been around for a while."

"Oh hush, Ron," Hermione said as she walked over to the fireplace and sat at one of the chairs. "Harry is doing his meditation."

The two siblings also came over and took up seats near the fire. Harry opted for just staying on the floor, but he unfurled and stretched his legs as he leaned back on his hands.

"I was trying to meditate. Wasn't working, though," Harry said as he stared into the orange and red flames.

"What's wrong? Oh, we didn't break your concentration did we?" Hermione asked. She had also read the book Harry was learning his meditation from and had been trying to help him ever since he told his friends about his idea for his training.

"Couldn't've even if you wanted to," Harry said with a small smile as he looked over at the bushy haired witch. "That implies that I had been concentrating in the first place."

"I shtill don see why you're doin tha. Buncha hoowy ifya ashk me." Ron had stuffed the candy cane back into his mouth.

"Ron. You are going to put me off candy for life if you keep eating like that," Ginny said with no small amount of disgust as she watched her older brother eating. She shook her head and looked back at Harry. "You better find a way to—what does that book say…find your center?—before Snape throws a hissy fit."

Harry snorted. "He pretty much already has."

Snape had been about as patient as Ron is on Christmas morning when it came to Harry's idea of meditation. He had told Harry he could do so in his own free time, but every single duel that Harry did not perform any sort of wandless magic, Snape would be sure to criticize the practice and Harry for doing it. The young man was just glad the Potions Master had backed off on his more barbing personal attacks during their duels. Snape still attempted to get him angry, though Harry was starting to think it was more out of habit than anything else, but he focused more on his fighting than Harry's character.

"You know, it's funny. He has tried the tactic of trying to make me angry enough to perform wandless magic for months now with no success, and it hasn't worked, but he was willing to go on with that plan forever. I try meditation and after two weeks of it not working, he calls it a failure and tells me to give it up," Harry said as he began to pick at the balls of fuzz that were attached to the old rug he was sitting on.

"Well, Professor Snape is a man who is quite set that his beliefs and opinions have the most merit for a particular situation," Hermione said practically as she opened yet another book to read.

Ginny was staring at her friend with an odd look. "That's a really fancy way of saying he is a stubborn, pompous prick, right?"

The brown haired witch looked up from her book with a small glare. "You're about as tactful as your brother sometimes."

"I try."

"Hey! Were you making a jab at me?"

"Quiet, Ron, go back to your candy cane and let the big people talk." Ginny waved a dismissive hand in her brother's direction.

"Big people, my foot," Ron grumbled as he popped the small piece of candy into his mouth to finish it, "I'm the oldest one here, Ginny-bear."

The red headed girl's eyes widened at the use of her childhood pet name and the quarrel was on.

Harry was watching the brother and sister bicker like one would watch a tennis match. Hermione was thatching the exchange as well, but instead of the lopsided grin Harry had on, she had a frown. She finally closed her book, resigning herself to the fact that it wasn't going to be quiet enough for reading anytime soon, and looked down at Harry.

"Harry, though, how has the meditation going? Have you found your center?"

"You know," Harry said as he sat up a little and stretched, the two red heads fighting becoming more of a background noise along with the crackling of the fire, "I get that book. I think it will help, but I just don't see why it has to use such—such goofy language. 'Find your center'…I know where my center is. It's right here." He pointed do his stomach. "There. Mystery solved."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not that kind of center, Harry."

"Well, then they need to say what they mean," Harry grumbled as he threw a piece of fuzz into the fire.

"That sounds like a Ron answer."

"Do what now? What are you all talking about and why was my name involved?" Ron said as his attention from Ginny shifted automatically.

"We were planning on how to tell you that all your presents this year are underpants," Harry deadpanned as he looked up at his tall, best friend.

"Good. Kreacher keeps burning up all my other ones. I mean, they're not that dirty! Only a few had stains on—"

The red head was interrupted when his girlfriend reached over and smacked him in the back of the head. Harry was already laughing at what Ron had been saying, but was almost in tears when he saw both girls' reactions.

Ginny stared at her brother a moment before she buried her face in her hands. "Ron…I never want to hear about your underwear again. Ever. I feel like I need to clean my ears out now. Oh, shut up, Harry. Ron being disgusting isn't that funny."

"Sure it is. You didn't live in a dorm room with him for—"

The light-heartedness of the situation stopped abruptly. A sort of siren seemed to be going off throughout the house. It was not the loud, blaring beeps that Harry remembered from fire alarms, but it was the unmistakable alert tone that played continuously and seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. At nearly the same moment, Harry felt a telltale warmth coming from his right pocket. All the members had a special galleon that would glow red and heat whenever there was a serious problem. Bright green eyes looked quickly at his three friends as they realized the gravity of the situation. All four teens leapt to their feet, and Harry was out the door in a flash with the others not far behind.

There was a Death Eater attack.

One bad enough that all of the Order members were needed.

The group made it to the entryway to see Kingsley, Mr. Weasley, Tonks, Moody, and Remus apparate at almost the exact same time.

"What's going on?" Harry asked as he came up to the adults.

"Death Eaters are attacking a small, wizarding community outside of Manchester. And You-Know-Who is with them," Arthur said.

"Any idea why?" Hermione tried to ask.

"No idea," Kingsley began.

"We don't really need to know why," Harry said as he rushed forward. "Who here knows where we are going and can apparate there?"

"All of us have been there," Tonks said. "The place is called Tripsendale. The wizarding community there has been openly and adamantly against You-Know-Who since the first war."

"Good, we will side apparate. Ginny, you stay here."

He heard a squawk behind him that let him know just what Ginny thought of that.

"Ginny," he turned around to look at the witch, "your mother will no doubt be here shortly, and we need people to stay behind in case we have to send someone back injured."

Ginny still didn't look impressed, but nodded her head.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. "No chance in talking you both into staying here?"

Ron snorted. "More of a chance of bleeding stones, really."

"Fine, let's go!" Harry marched over and took Kingsley's arm. No sooner had he done so then they dissaperated and reappeared in the middle of a small village that looked not all that different from Hogsmeade, only that there were hexes and curses flying everywhere.

Harry and Kingsley ducked down and got behind one of the houses as the rest of the Order apparated near their location.

"Do you know how many there are?" Harry asked Kingsley.

"We got our information from Snape. He said it was about fifteen Death Eaters."

Harry nodded, then dodged out from behind the wall.

It was just like dueling.

He spotted a Death Eater attacking an elderly wizard. He quickly cast a stinging hex towards cloaked figure, hitting him square in the side.

That was all it took.

Soon, several hexes and curses were flying their way. Harry made sure to keep an eye on Ron and Hermione throughout the fight, but it was proving more and more difficult as the battle progressed.

Harry knew that there was a good chance that one of these Death Eaters was Snape, but at the time, all the masked assailants he had come up against weren't him. He didn't know how he knew; he just did.

He was currently battling it out with a very tall and stocky Death Eater that really liked the cutting hex. Harry already had a particularly nasty gash on his leg and left arm. He could feel the warmth of blood running down his limbs, but the cuts were either so deep that they had cut the nerves or his adrenaline was too high for him to feel the pain from the wounds.

'All the better,' he thought as he yelled out a shielding charm and quickly tried to cast a burning hex. He wished that Snape had taught him that burn hex that he had used on him those few weeks ago. This was almost nothing like dueling with Snape. Sure, he had to duck and dodge and cast spells at an opponent, but while Snape was relentless in his assaults, his spells were not designed to kill like the ones the Death Eaters were using.

While Harry was not about to resort to those kind of spells, he consciously made an effort to put more power behind the spells that he did use.

He hit the man and sent him to the ground, though Harry knew that the hex would not be enough to put the large man out of the fight. He turned to look at where the rest of the Order was. The only ones he could see amongst the smoke and the light of the hexes were Hermione and Mr. Weasley. The two were in the process of helping the civilians to get out of the city. By the looks of things, Mr. Weasley was helping to get families out by portkey or any other means of escape they could while the younger witch provided cover. Harry couldn't see exactly how they were fairing besides that.

'Please be okay.'

He turned back when he saw a bright yellow flash of light go whizzing past his eyes. Now, not only was there the big fellow getting up from the ground, but he had a friend too.

'Great, now it's a party.'

Harry dodged and ran and exchanged several hexes and curses with the two Death Eaters. Halfway through the battle, Harry unwittingly switched over to non-verbal spells. The adrenaline was just too high for him to realize the achievement. He hit both of them quite a few times and managed eventually to hit the larger of the two—the one he had burned earlier—with a powerful enough pummeling spell to knock him back into the wall of one of the buildings. The man slumped down to the floor in unconsciousness.

The other masked man looked back at his comrade and Harry took the opportunity to send a pummeling curse at him as well. The man didn't hit the wall, but he did fly back several yards and hit the ground with a loud THUD!

Harry set his stance to cast another hex when the Death Eater scrambled up and began to run.

In the other direction.

Harry almost felt like growling. 'Coward!'

He had the urge to run after the man, but realized that he had more important things to worry about.

Like the fact that he hadn't seen Voldemort this whole time.

Kingsley had said that the information about this attack came from Snape. If Snape said that Voldemort was here, then the red-eyed monster was here.

Harry just hoped that none of the other Order members had found him first.

The green-eyed teen ran throughout the town. He spotted the other Order members. Fred and George had arrived as well as other men and women that Harry did not know. By the look of the official uniforms, they must have been Aurors that Kingsley had called in.

He ran up beside Ron, noticing that the tall man had a bad cut on his forehead and what looked like a burn on his hand. He joined in casting hexes towards the group of Death Eaters the Weasley brothers were fighting.

"Are you guys okay?" Harry shouted over the commotion.

"Fine." Ron said. He then yelled out a _Petrificus Totalus _towards one of the Death Eaters.

Harry turned around to ask the twins how they were fairing, but the two seemed to be in their element—causing chaos. They were currently throwing all manner of spells. Not only those that were battle appropriate, but also those that weren't.

"Guys, I don't think now is the time for a tickling charm," Harry yelled.

"You say that—" Fred began.

"—but it is infinitely harder to fight—" George continued.

"—when you're giggling!"

The twins continued their casting.

"Just don't make this into a joke!" Harry called as he turned back to Ron.

"Yes, sir!" the two older red heads called behind him.

Harry just rolled his eyes and focused back on the fight and finding Voldemort. He threw up his hand and put up a shield for he and Ron as a bright blue hex came flying towards them.

"Whoa," Ron said as he watched Harry throw out another hex.

Green eyes were still scanning all the remaining Death Eaters when he spotted a tall, slender Death Eater that moved exactly like—

"Snape."

"Huh?"

Harry looked over at Ron. "That Death Eater over there, it's Snape."

"Well, if it is then we've been hitting him with spells most of this time."

Harry felt a flare of emotion that nearly knocked him off balance.

Worry.

He was worried about the Potions Master.

Was he hurt as well? What if he got caught by one of the aurors? The Order knew he was on their side, but no one else did. He would be sent to Azkaban for sure.

Harry shook his head. Worrying—about Snape of all people—was not going to help him in this situation. The man was an expert fighter and an expert at subterfuge. If anyone could survive this, Snape could. Harry could practically hear the criticism Snape would have for him if he knew of Harry's lack of focus in such a situation.

Harry continued to fight alongside his friend. After some time, Hermione joined them, reporting that all the civilians had been evacuated. The hexes and spells still continued to fly, and Harry wondered just how much longer this battle was going to continue. He had just blocked a hex aimed for Hermione, when his scar began to flair with a searing pain that sent him down on one knee.

"Harry!"

Harry didn't know who was calling out to him. The pain in his head was growing and he checked to make sure his Occluding shields were up and strong. Satisfied that Voldemort wasn't going anywhere near his brain, Harry focused all his strength back into his limbs and stood up.

"Harry, mate, are you okay?"

"Yea, Ron. Voldemort's here, though."

No sooner had the green-eyed wizard said that, then the snake-like, pale, red-eyed wizard appeared from the shadows as though he just materialized there. Harry rationalized through the pain of his head that he probably had. The bastard always had a thing for dramatic entrances.

Harry saw the dark leader stand behind his Death Eaters and survey the battle scene with a look that the teen could only describe as glee.

The monster almost looked giddy.

Harry squinted through the pain of his head and tried to cast a pummel hex towards the group of Death Eaters in front of Voldemort. He managed to send one of the masked bodyguards back; Voldemort merely sidestepped to allow his follower to fly back and hit the wall behind them.

The glee never left those eerie, red eyes.

After turning back to face the battlefield, Voldemort raised his hand. Without saying a word, the Death Eaters stopped their attacks.

And dissapparated.

Harry started in shock as all of the masked figures that were able vanished on the spot. He heard Ron swearing beside him, voicing Harry's sentiments exactly. Soon, all that was left was Voldemort.

Standing in the middle of the burnt rubble of a once peaceful town, smirking.

Harry felt like punching the smile off. The pain in his scar intensified impossibly, and Harry fought to stay standing and to keep his eyes open.

"I do ssso hope that you all have enjoyed tonight'ssss entertainment. I believe, though, that we are done here. Until we meet again, Missster Potter."

Voldemort ended his little speech and vanished in a swirl of dark blue flame.

This time, Harry swore.

He finally allowed his green eyes to close as he swayed where he stood. The pain from his scar was fading now that Voldemort had left, but now he was starting to feel the effects of his other injuries.

"What's the status report?" Harry heard Kingsley say somewhere behind him.

"Four aurors are dead, as well as many civilian casualties."

Harry didn't know who had answered the head auror; all he was worried about now was his friends. He opened his eyes and looked over at Ron and Hermione. Both had their injuries, but Hermione already had her wand out and was healing the wounds that she could on Ron as well as Fred and George since they were close. Remus and Tonks looked pretty beat up; Remus was holding his arm as if it was broken and Tonks was limping heavily. Mr. Weasley was the least injured since he was mostly in charge of the evacuation. The only one that he didn't see was Moody.

The elder, ex-auror was found a half hour later, sitting propped up against the wall of a house. His wand was still in his hand and there were three Death Eaters at his feet.

And his eyes were closed.

Even the magical one.

Harry knew even before they checked him that the man who had been one of his mentors, a man who had fought as a member of the order through both wars, was dead. His green eyes looked at the three masked men that also lay dead beside the fallen Order member. It was a small comfort that the battle eager man had taken his assailants down with him.

A very, very small comfort.

Harry felt his mind go fuzzy as he looked at the once peaceful town. He heard people give orders to take the unconscious Death Eaters into custody and to get a team in from St. Mungo's for the bodies; he even heard people calling his name, but after a while it seemed to come from farther and farther away. He looked at those dead in the street, the burning buildings and scorch marks from all the hexes. There was still a film of smoke drifting through the air and what was once beautiful snow was grey and mashed from all the running and burning throughout the town.

His eyes finally rested on a small home that seemed to be untouched but for a few scorch marks and a few broken windows. There, in the front window, was a Christmas tree.

The fairy lights were still twinkling, and Harry could see the shiny reflection of the ornaments and bells hanging from the branches.

He almost swore he could hear "Silver Bells," playing, but he knew it was only in his head.

Harry felt tears begin to gather in the corners of his eyes. He didn't cry though.

"Happy Christmas," he whispered sadly.

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It took several days for things to go back to some semblance of order after that night. Grimmauld place had become a makeshift hospital, as all of the Order members came to receive medical care from Hermione and Poppy.

The younger witch was in her element as she went around administering healing spells and giving stern instruction as to after care to all of the patients. Harry had watched her with a small smile, imagining her as a top Medi-witch at St. Mungo's, and all of the nurses being afraid to get on her bad side. He had a feeling that was how she was dealing with all that she had seen. Keep busy. Keep moving forward. Even after a few days, when most of the Order had left, Hermione still kept exceptionally busy.

Ron was out of sorts as well. This had been the most intense battle the redhead had seen since the Department of Mysteries, and then he had been whisked away by the Order when they arrived. He was quieter than normal, and while he still made jokes and tried to act his usual self, there was still a melancholy about him.

Another thing that Harry had noticed as he quietly observed his friends was that the two had begun to display their affection for each other more often and openly. They still had their little fights, but they now could be seen holding hands, kissing, and displaying affection where before they had always been more reserved.

Harry, himself, had tried to shake the fuzzy, disconnected feeling that had settled over his brain since that night. He had tried to, at first, blame it on all of the people that were in and out of Grimmauld Place. After the Order members had been cared for and left, the Weasleys and Remus had stayed for the Christmas holiday. There was a constant stream of people in and out of doors and through all of the rooms that left the house feeling more like a circus than a headquarters.

Perhaps it was his injuries. His cuts, like other wounds sustained by people in the fight, had been caused by hexes that also left them impervious to magic. This meant that Poppy had to stitch both gashes closed the Muggle way, leaving Harry with two large bandages around his arm and leg and the prospect of two new scars to add to his collection.

In the end, it wasn't his injuries or the chaos in the house.

He felt guilty.

Guilt over those who were injured and killed during the battle. Voldemort had attacked that village for no other reason than to taunt the side of the Light. It was destruction for destruction's sake, and Harry could not help feeling that if he had taken care of Voldemort sooner, if he had done something different, then those people would not have lost their lives. Moody would still be alive.

And he was worried.

Worried that this would start happening more and more. Worried who would be next. He was worried for the Weasleys, for Hermione, Remus, all the Order members…

And Snape.

This last one was one was disconcerting, since the Potions Master was actually on his mind a lot since the confrontation. He had not seen his dueling instructor and mentor for four days. He worried if he had been injured. He worried if the man had been discovered as a spy.

He worried that he was worrying too much over Snape.

Harry was sitting in the drawing room one bright and cold morning just three days before Christmas. The baubles and music were still playing throughout the house, and Harry had a small smile, as the ones in the room with him seemed to dance to the song playing on the wireless. It was a catchy, modern Christmas song called, "I want a Giant Pygmy Puff for Christmas," and for the life of him, Harry didn't know who sang it. Things felt more normal once again.

Or as normal as things ever got.

The twins and Ginny were playing pranks on everyone in the house. Mrs. Weasley was cooking and yelling at the three troublemakers. Ron and Hermione were still very affectionate, but they now had more of their standard tiffs. Mr. Weasley and Remus were constantly talking Ministry work or politics that made Harry want to run and hide.

Yes, even after all that destruction, things seemed to be going back to normal.

And yet, Harry still felt that disconnection.

The song on the wireless was changing when he heard a loud POP coming from behind his head.

Someone had apparated in.

Since people were still often coming and going for the Order, and Dumbledore was still not due to return till after the Holiday, Harry just kept his attention on the floating decoration and began to sing quietly to, "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas."

"Nice to see that you are so at the ready for our training, Potter."

Harry nearly flew off the couch as the sarcastic, baritone voice came from right behind him. He turned and looked up into dark eyes.

Snape.

Harry felt a great relief flood him as he realized that the man had not suffered some terrible fate. His next thought was why he should feel this glad that the man who constantly tried to make him miserable was alright, but he realized that analyzing this feeling might be a little too difficult, so he decided to ignore it and pray that it went away.

"Might I also say," Snape continued, "that your singing is atrocious."

There, happy feeling for the man was gone.

"Where have you been?"

"That is no way to speak to your superiors."

"Good to know."

"Insolent whelp. Let us go," Snape growled as he turned and walked back out of the drawing room.

"Go? Where?" Harry asked as he got up to follow. He winced when the stitched up cut on his leg gave a protesting stab of pain for him moving so fast. Poppy and Hermione had told him that he had to take it easy until the cuts healed so that he didn't rip his stitches. The young man didn't think Snape would be too impressed with that.

"We are going to the moon. Where do you think we are going, Potter?" Snape replied with his usual snark as he stood and waited for Harry at the apparation spot.

"I've always wanted to go to the moon."

Snape merely rolled his eyes and turned to dissapparate without a word.

Knowing full well where the older man was going, Harry turned and also dissapparated to their training spot. He was expecting Snape to start the duel immediately and reached down for his wand as soon as his feet crunched softly into the snow. The man in the thick, black robes and cloak was merely standing with his back to the younger man a few yards away in the snow, waiting.

"The moon is cold," Harry said in an attempt to be witty. He knew he had probably failed. He wrapped his arms around himself and began to shiver.

Severus turned and looked over at Potter as the boy hugged himself and shivered. The little idiot had forgotten to bring his cloak or any sort of warm clothing. The messy haired nuisance was only in a jumper, jeans, and trainers that looked about three steps away from falling off the boy's feet.

"You little dolt. It is in the middle of winter. You have a wish to catch your death?"

The teen in front of him shrugged. Severus felt exasperated at the lack of articulation, but a moment later, Potter actually voiced a response.

"You…you seemed like you were in such a hurry and I just…didn't think," Potter finished lamely.

"That is a horrible excuse."

"Yea…I'm beginning to see that." Potter shivered violently.

"Oh, for goodness sakes, Potter, I am your mentor, not your nursemaid!" Severus said in agitation as he walked over to the smaller wizard. He removed his heavy cloak and placed it on his shoulders.

The two stood there in the snow close to each other for a minute's time, looking the other one in the eyes. Severus found himself admiring the almost acid green color that was Potter's eyes. They were so different. He also found himself looking at the boy's other features. The small nose, cheeks flushed with the cold and full lips that were chapped because of the weather also.

Both men did not move as they continued to look at one another. Finally, Severus blinked when he realized he was admiring Potter, and it was enough to break the daze they both were both in.

Harry looked down at his feet and heard Snape take a few steps back.

'What was that?' he thought as he looked at the cloak that was far too big for him, but oh so warm.

Snape had given him his cloak.

Was this a dream?

A nightmare?

Some weird, parallel dimension?

…A joke?

If it was a joke then Harry really didn't get it.

"Sir?" the teen said tentatively as he finally looked up at the Potions Professor.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape snapped. He had crossed his arms at his chest, but instead of it being a gesture of cold, it seemed more like one of annoyance.

Or defense.

"Won't you be cold without you cloak?"

"I charm my cloths with warming spells, Potter."

"Oh. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Do you honestly want me to answer that?" Snape said as he raised an eyebrow and smirked.

There was no escaping it.

Snape was making jokes.

'The man has a sense of humor? This is getting too weird.'

"Er, not really."

"Thought not."

Snape brought out his wand and started to walk through the white snow to presumably get into position to start the duel.

"Uh…. Sir?"

The taller, dark man turned back to look at him. "What is it now, Potter?"

"Can we…can we not fight today?"

That infamous eyebrow rose once more. "Might I ask why you feel it is acceptable to leave off our duties of training, Mr. Potter?"

"Well," Harry said as he kicked at the snow. He wondered if Snape would ever allow him to build a snowman. He doubted it. "I actually can't run and stuff right now. I have a cut on my leg that Poppy had to stitch up. If I rip out my stitches, she will bind my legs together and make it to where I can't walk till it heals. I know she would do it, too; it's just not an idle threat. Plus…well, it's Christmas."

The other eyebrow rose up to join the other one. "Your reasoning for taking a hiatus in your lessons is the holiday? Need I remind you that—"

"No. No you don't have to remind me," Harry said defiantly as he looked over at the dark eyed wizard. "I know that the war is not taking a break for Christmas. I was very aware of that a few days ago. But," here he shrugged again. He really wished he could do something else besides that. "But maybe we could just have a little peace right now. I know that we will have to keep training and fighting and everything, but maybe not for this little bit of time. Just a short time where there is no fighting?"

The look on Snape's face led Harry to believe that the man was going to yell at him.

Or possibly mock him.

Hell, it was Snape, so chances were very good that it was both.

Harry continued to look at Snape until he felt embarrassed and looked down again to his feet in the snow. Now that he had the pleasure of hindsight, his little speech sounded childish. Snape was right. The war was going to go on, and his little kiddie request to not fight because it was Christmas sounded impossibly naive. While the green-eyed young man knew this, realized this, he still felt this urge to not fight with Snape right now. He still wanted this little bit of peace.

"Fine."

Harry's head snapped up so fast his neck hurt. "Say what now?"

"I said that is fine, Potter," Snape said as he walked back towards Harry. "We will not duel. You may go back and have your little holiday with your friends and pretend that the world is all candy and fairy lights and—"

Snape was walking up to Harry and then right past him as he had his sarcastic monologue. The teen realized that the older man was going to apparate away.

"Actually," Harry interrupted the Potions Master, "I was hoping we could talk."

Snape stopped mid-stride and turned to look at Harry as though he had grown two heads.

"I am not in the mood for a joke right now, Potter."

"Good, because I'm not really that funny."

"What are you blabbering on about?"

"What if…what if we just talk? After we box, we sometimes talk like two normal human beings. What if we did that now?"

Snape was still looking at him strangely. "Why?"

Harry fought the urge to shrug. "Because it's Christmas."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you going to use that excuse for everything?"

"Probably."

"What would be the point of us carrying on a conversation?"

"Dunno."

"That is brilliant, Mr. Potter." Snape brought his hand down from his nose and looked back at Harry with one of his more potent glares. Rather than feel intimidated, though, Harry felt the urge to smile.

'Oh, please don't let me smile. Snape will roast me if I smile. Don't smile – don't smile – don't smile.'

Damn it, he smiled!

"What is so funny?" Snape snarled.

"Nothing." Harry fought to school his features. "This is a serious matter."

"You are acting like a little fool."

"So, do you want to just talk?" Harry asked again. He shifted around in the snow to face Snape more directly.

"Here? In the freezing cold?"

"We can always go and talk at Grimmauld Place. Or your house."

Snape sniffed in obvious distaste of those ideas. "Here will be more than acceptable," he said as he walked past Harry and back into the main dueling area.

'Thought so.'

Harry followed the taller man into the clearing. Snape already had his wand out and was clearing some of the snow and transfigured one of the stones into a simple chair that he promptly sat down on. Harry sat down on the recently cleared ground near the snow. At Snape's odd look, he shrugged again.

"I like to play with the snow."

"Oh, of course. Why did I not think of that? The apparent Chosen One likes to play with snow."

"Don't make me throw a snowball at you," Harry said with a lopsided grin. He knew he was pushing his luck, but hey, it was Christmas.

"Try it, and you will have much more to worry about than Poppy getting onto you for ripping out your stitching."

Harry couldn't help himself.

He laughed.

"What is so funny, Potter?"

"Nothing. This is a solemn occasion."

Snape took out his wand and waved it over himself. Harry thought it was most likely a reapplication of the warming charm the Potions Professor said he put on all of his clothing. After the long haired wizard was done casting his spells, he tucked his wand back into his robes and crossed his arms once more.

"I must be losing my mind to agree to such idiocy."

"Probably," Harry said as he began to pick up snow in his hand. "Did you get hurt during the fight the other night?"

Snape still had his arms crossed and was looking at Harry under a veil of suspicion. Especially since the boy had snow in his hand and seemed to be forming it into a ball.

"I sustained a few injuries, but nothing that could not be fixed easily. I saw Madame Pomfrey at Hogwarts the next day."

That was the beginning of what turned into a very normal and surprisingly calm conversation between the two wizards. They discussed important things. They discussed the battle mostly. About Moody and the others who died. About why Voldemort had decided to attack. About Harry's training and his attempts at meditation.

"Perhaps you should try gazing into a crystal ball next," Snape said with his usual bite. "Perhaps that will illuminate you as to how to achieve inner peace in meditation?"

"Do you really think that will work?"

"Don't be stupid."

"Yes, sir." Harry said with a smirk.

They talked about not so important things.

Like Potions—though Snape would swear that that is a very important topic.

Or Quidditch.

How Snape tolerated that topic, Harry had no idea.

They also talked about Christmas.

"Why don't you like Christmas, Snape?" Harry asked as he made his tenth miniature snowman.

He had them surrounding him in his own little snow army. He didn't see it, but Severus was watching the young man with a small amount of amusement.

A very small amount.

Miniscule even.

And if anyone found out about it, Severus would hex them to a size that made Potter's little snow figures look like giants.

"Christmas is merely a time for people to become lax in their duties and take part in frivolous activities and overindulge and gorge themselves."

"Oh."

Harry turned his attention back to his little snow minions. The two sat in silence for a few minutes. It was not uncomfortable, but it held a sort of tension that suggested that things were still left unsaid.

Snape sighed. "I do not have pleasant memories of Christmas. I prefer to spend the holiday in solitude."

The teen looked up at the Potions Master. The man had his eyes cast away and he looked most uncomfortable.

Well, more uncomfortable than he normally looked.

Which is saying something.

This personal admission seemed to be very hard for the man to voice aloud, and Harry was surprised that the man had actually made such an omission to him.

"Would you…would you want to come to Grimmauld for Christmas?" Harry kept his bright green eyes on the older wizard.

"I thought I just said I prefer to spend the holiday alone," Snape said as he finally turned back. Dark eyes met green.

"Yea."

"So why would I possibly wish to subject myself to an evening with the Weasleys, a wolf, Miss Granger, and, of course, let us not forget your company during that time?"

Harry just tilted his head to the side. "Because it's Christmas."

Snape shook his head and stood.

"We should return. You look as if you are about to freeze to death—thanks in large part to your desire to build those useless little snow blobs—and I must get back to my lab for brewing."

Harry stood as well and dusted some of the snow off of Snape's Cloak. He took it off and handed it back to the taller wizard. "Thanks for this."

Snape took the garment back, but did not put it on; he merely folded it over his arm. "One would think you were five. You do not eat properly, nor do you clothe yourself properly. Next time, do try to that thing you call a brain and wear proper clothing." He began to walk over to the apparation spot.

"I make no guarantees!" Harry called out.

He looked down at his little snow people.

He realized that the fuzziness and detachment that had clouded his mind was gone.

"Mr. Potter."

"Coming!" Harry ran to catch up.

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"Jingle Bells, Ronniekins smells. Where's all the eggnog gone?—"

"If you two prats don't stop singing that song I'll—"

"Ron—don't threaten your brothers. Fred and George—while you both have lovely singing voices, the song is getting old. Stop it before I stop you."

"Wait, why do you get to threaten them, but I don't?"

"Because I'm your mother. That's why."

Christmas was a glorious pandemonium at Grimmauld place. Harry had been woken up at an ungodly hour by Ron who just couldn't wait to get downstairs and open presents. Harry was highly amused when the redhead discovered that someone had placed a barrier around the gifts so that no one could open them.

The rest of the family had come down later on that morning to find Ron pouting in one of the chairs and Harry asleep on the couch.

After breakfast, Mr. Weasley had finally removed the barrier around the brightly wrapped parcels and Ron was once again a man on a mission. He had just dived for his first gift when Mrs. Weasley volunteered her youngest son to pass out the gifts. Ron once again grumbled as he handed out all the presents to everyone else.

Harry was more than happy and thankful for the presents he received. He had gotten a book on advanced charms from Hermione, a new set of Quidditch gloves from Ron and Ginny, his usual knit jumper from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hagrid had sent him way too hard tea cakes, Remus had given him a set of magical records to play on the player in the drawing room, and Albus had left a gift for him as well. The elderly wizard had given him a book on subconscious magic. A meditation book. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he looked at the book and realized this was just another one of those "Dumbledore Things."

Now the group was lounging about around the Christmas tree, admiring their new gifts, talking and generally enjoying the day.

Harry was sitting on the floor leaning his back against the couch watching the twins egg Ron on. They had apparently stayed up all night thinking of parodies to all the popular Christmas songs and carols and had been regaling the group with their rendition for the last half hour. Their "Jingle Bells" one was a particular favorite to the two identical Weasleys, so they sang it multiple times.

Loudly.

They had just started to sing their creation of, "Oh, Christmas Flea," when the commotion of the room was brought to a resounding halt by the sound of someone apparating into the foyer.

Harry peeked up and over the back of the couch as everyone looked at the drawing room entryway to see who the mystery guest was. Harry's eyes went impossibly wide as he saw Snape take a few, very stiff steps to stand outside the door. The man was still dressed in his usual black and looked like he was about to face the lion's den with a meat necklace around his neck.

But he was there.

"Professor Snape!" Mrs. Weasley said amicably as she got up and walked over to the taller, scowling wizard. "What a pleasant surprise! I trust you will be joining us for dinner?" The red headed mother gave Snape no time to answer as she continued, "I am sure we will have more than enough food. That reminds me, I need to start the potatoes and add an extra place at the table. Ginny, be a dear and come and help me." She twittered off to the kitchen.

Ginny rose slowly and walked the near same path her mother took, taking her past the Potions Master. Her eyes were still wide with surprise and she gave a wide gap between herself and the professor as she walked out the door and down to the kitchen.

Everyone else was still quiet from the shock the last few minutes had brought. Harry realized he needed to say or do something or Snape was going to leave.

Or kill someone.

Fight or flight, and all that.

"Uh," he said as he rose fully to his feet and walked over to the dark eyed man. "You're here."

"A brilliant deduction, Potter."

Harry was glad that even when Snape was highly uncomfortably, his sarcasm was still able to function just fine.

"I was given an invitation, by you I might add. Am I to deduce that the offer has been retracted?"

Harry heard a sound from behind him that was a mix of a groan and a squawk.

A guawk, if you will.

The guawk had obviously come from Ron, and Harry knew he was going to be explaining to his best friend later what had possessed him to invite Snape to spend Christmas with them. Harry ignored his lanky best friend.

"No! No, the offer wasn't retracted," Harry said quickly. "I just didn't think that you would actually come, s'all."

"But, since you are here Mr. Snape--" George called out in a singsong voice behind him.

Harry knew where this was going and covered his eyes with one of his hands.

"—we would love to sing you a song!" Fred also sang out.

"It is entitled, 'You're a Mean One, Mr. Snape—"

"And we really think you are going to like it!"

Harry didn't hear anything for a few seconds. He finally ventured a glance and turned his head to look back at all of his friends. All three Weasley boys were standing there as if they had been hit by _Petrificus_ _Totalus_. Hermione was simply looking at the red heads with amusement as she set her book down on one of the end tables. Harry finally turned and looked back up at Snape. The man's face was set in an expressionless mask and his dark eyes simply stared at the twins. It was a look that had been employed to stop students dead in their tracks for over a decade.

It could almost make them cry.

By the looks of Ron, he hadn't lost his touch.

Harry's hand now went to rub his mouth in hopes of actually physically removing the smile he knew was on his face. He didn't think it would help the situation.

Sure was funny, though.

"Come on guys," Hermione said as she stood. "I can smell lunch."

With that, she walked out of the drawing room. The other boys seemed to snap out of their frozen states and cautiously followed the brown haired witch out of the large room. They kept their eyes on Snape, as if the man were to attack and somehow give them detentions once again.

Finally, the only ones left in the front part of the house were Snape and Harry.

"Now I see what your problem is," Snape said dryly as he watched the retreating twins and their taller younger brother. "I have been here a mere five minutes, and I can already feel my IQ deteriorating."

"They really aren't that bad."

Snape turned back and gave him a look.

"I'm serious!"

"That is what frightens me."

Harry had to rub his mouth again to keep from laughing. "Look, we better get back to the kitchen. If Fred and George have their way, they will make it so they are both sitting by you and I—"

Harry had begun to walk towards the kitchen during his explanation, but stopped mid-sentence and mid-step when he realized that Snape was not following him. Had he changed his mind? Was he going to leave? He had already lasted a lot longer than Harry thought he would, but he still wished for the man to stay longer. No one deserved to be alone on Christmas. He turned back around.

"Sir?"

The teen watched as the Potions Master shifted on his feet. Almost as though he were uncomfortable.

"It is customary to give one's host a token of appreciation when invited to a holiday event." The dark man brought out a small, plainly wrapped box.

"You…you got me a gift?" Harry asked as he looked at the parcel.

"It is not extravagant as I am sure you are use to, but—"

"I actually got you something as well," Harry blurted out. He brought out his wand and muttered a quick _accio. _A minute later, an unwrapped box came down the stairs from his room. He reached out and caught it, turning back to Snape and holding it out at arm's length. "I didn't wrap it because I didn't think you would actually show up. Plus, I thought you would curse me for putting some of the wrapping paper the twins had bought on it."

Snape stared at the box, as though trying to decide if this was some prank.

"You were not required to buy me anything, Potter." He finally said as the two exchanged the presents.

Harry just shrugged and carefully unwrapped and opened his box. It was full of Honeyduke's candy. Mostly chocolate.

"Again, it is nothing extravagant as you no doubt are—"

"Thank you." Harry said sincerely. Green eyes looked up into dark ones. "Thanks, I—no one got me candy this year. I was kinda sad about that."

Snape gave a curt nod. "You had mentioned during your ramblings the other day that you loved chocolate."

"Thanks," the teen said again. He then watched as the Potions Professor opened his own Christmas gift.

"I know you probably have a hundred of them already, but the shopper I ordered it from said that they were highly handy and break quite often."

Severus listened to Potter's quick explanation—or excuse, Severus wasn't sure—for the gift. Inside was a set of crystal stirring rods for potions. Potter had been correct. They were highly useful since some potions could not interact with wood or metals, leaving a brewer in quite the bind if that were all they possessed. They were also highly fragile. Though Severus had a few in his procession already, two had already broken, and Peeves had run off with one other. Severus did not even want to think about what the poltergeist did with it. The older wizard looked up at the boy once more. The entire situation was quite awkward for Severus, who did not think he was the social type in any sense of the word and strived with great effort to prove that belief right.

"Thank you for these. While you are correct that I already have some of these in my procession, you are also correct that I will need more in the near future. These are also of a very nice quality. Again, my appreciations."

Harry nodded. The two stayed where they both stood. Looking at one another.

Yes, it was very awkward.

Snape cleared his throat. "As you had mentioned earlier, lunch is prepared, and if I have to sit next to any of the Weasleys or Miss Granger, I will have your head," the man said as he walked back to the kitchen.

Harry followed. "My head? Why me?"

"Because it was your incessant dawdling that caused such an occurrence to take place."

"Dawdling? You are the one that stopped me!"

"Though that is true, you were the one to exacerbate the situation."

"What the hell does exacerbate mean anyway?"

"Perhaps I should have bought you a dictionary instead of that rot."

Harry smiled as he continued to follow the taller wizard into the kitchen. The smell of homemade, good food getting stronger and stronger the farther back in the house they went. Talking and laughing floated in along with the smells and Harry could just make out the Christmas carols that were still playing throughout the house. Snape turned to look back at him right before they reached the door to the kitchen; as though he were accusing Harry once again of the torment he was about to endure. Harry just continued to smile. He watched the tall, dark man walk in.

Peace.

If only for a short time.

Harry walked into the kitchen.

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Thanks for reading!

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Teaser for Next Chapter:

Christmas Lunch

The boys begin to fight again

Dumbledore returns with not-so-good news

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Reviews are always appreciated!


	6. A Message

**A/N: **Thank you, thank you, thank you for everyone who reviewed and added this story to their alerts and favorites list. You guys sure know how to make a writer smile.

Okay, so, my lovely and talented beta, **Invader Shawn**, is super busy at the moment. Rather than make her rush through a grueling chapter of mine, I will post this one and correct it when she has more free time available. So let this be a warning: this chapter is unbetaed! You people know how bad I am at grammar and spelling. If you don't, well, you are going realize just how great **Invader Shawn **is at being a beta.

The new movie is coming out tomorrow!!! That is why I wanted to get this chapter out now. Kinda as a celebration!

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Chapter 5: A Message

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_Oh, yes! Little brother will be ever so happy to hear of Professor Snape and his rod. – Fred Weasley_

Harry really hoped that he would remember this moment forever. Many of his biggest memories from the past eighteen years had been obtained without his awareness of them, as is usually the case with memories, but he hoped with all of his might that this made it on the list of things that stayed with him for the rest of his days.

A meal with the Weasley's was always an event. People talking over one another, food dishes passed every which way across the table and if the twins were present then you could be sure that there would be at least three food fights and someone would be embarrassed every fifteen seconds. When Harry had first begun to eat with the red headed clan, it had all been overwhelming and more than a little bit intimidating. After so many years, however, Harry found himself very comfortable surrounded by the cacophony of sound and had become adept at juggling multiple dishes of food like a pro and when to duck his head when arrant food sailed through the air.

Severus Snape, on the other hand, was not.

And that is why Harry desperately wished that this moment live on in infamy in his mind.

Sure as Harry had predicted, as soon as the two dark-haired wizards entered the kitchen, the twins had tried to fix it where they sat next to Snape. After some careful resituating—and the wonderful Mr. Weasley intervening on his behalf—Harry had been able to work it where Snape sat beside himself and Remus. The Potion Master and the werewolf had looked at each other with steeled gazes for a moment, but to Harry's relief, Snape sat down without complaint. The teen didn't know what he would do if the man had refused to sit next to the former marauder.

He had already refused to sit next to any of the Weasleys, which eliminated eighty percent of the people at the table that Christmas day.

"So, Professor Snape, how are potions going?" Mr. Weasley called out over the twins' singing.

"Ginny, dear, would you be so kind as to pass the beans?" the red headed mother said happily on top of that.

"I can't believe you got me a book, Hermione! A book!"

"Books are very useful Ron. I would think you would finally understand that and—"

"Molly, these rolls are delicious, may I have another?"

"Of course Remus. Just help yourself!"

"Mum! George threw some gravy in my hair! I just fixed it!" Ginny said angrily as she glared at her older brother.

The twins stuck their tongues out in unison.

"George!" Mrs. Weasley scolded.

"She did it first!"

"Did you Ginny?"

"I might have."

Harry was just smiling through all of this as he passed around food and stole glances at Snape.

The man looked like he was about to fall over. He had already gotten over-run with serving bowls a few minutes ago and had put his elbow in the mashed potatoes in the ensuing confusion of having to juggle three things at once.

Harry had cleared his throat—a noise that was lost to most everyone around the table—and pointed to his own elbow when he got the professor's attention. Snape had looked at him in annoyed confusion for a moment before he realized what the young man was indicating. Snape glared at Harry like he had been the culprit of his spud covered arm while he took a napkin and wiped his sleeve off. Harry just gave a lopsided grin and returned to his meal.

Lunch continued on with little more incidents after that, but Snape still had yet to relax by even the slightest of fractions. Harry felt a little remorse over this whole thing. While it was very funny to see the stoic man glare at the twins and try to navigate a meal with the Weasleys, he knew that this was so far out of the serious man's comfort zone that it wasn't even in the same country.

That made him very curious.

Snape was, most assuredly, not a man who sought out situations that were out of the ordinary for him. He made his potions, taught his classes, went to Death Eater meetings, went to Order meetings, and Harry guessed somewhere in that schedule the man also ate and slept. Other than those things, though, the man was stubbornly immovable and inconvincible.

Except that he hadn't been.

'He has changed up his routine recently. Boxing on Fridays. Talking the other day. Coming here for Christmas…' Harry thought. He cast a curious glance to his right at the black-glad man.

Snape also turned and their eyes locked. Harry didn't know why he felt himself blushing. Most likely from the embarrassment of being caught staring.

That was all.

Surely.

Snape leaned forward to say something and Harry felt his cheeks heating even more.

"You are the very epitome of evil, Mr. Potter," Snape said in a low hiss to ensure that no one else at the table heard. Harry thought Remus might have. The man had choked on his water just now.

"Oh, I'm evil? That's a right laugh coming from you!" Harry whispered back.

"You knew it would be like this. That is why you invited me!"

"I invited you because I thought you might've liked the company."

"Well. I must thank you."

Wait a minute.

"Say what now?" Harry's brow knitted in confusion.

"Yes, because of this, I realize I have taken my quiet, solitary holiday tradition for granted," Snape said with a sarcastic smirk.

Harry didn't have time to respond to the comment because at that precise moment a roll, after being expertly aimed and fired by one Fred Weasley, was on a perfect arc and trajectory for Snape's head. Harry did not notice the flying bun until he was sure it was too late to warn Snape whose head was still turned towards the younger man.

Harry's eyes widened as Snape, while still keeping his head turned, reach out with his hand and caught the aerial baked good mere moments before it would have hit him in the ear.

The noise and movement at the table stilled as everyone looked at Snape still holding up the dinner roll. Slowly, Snape turned and looked over at the twins. Both men were looking at the Potion professor with their mouths slightly agape.

Harry's eyes stayed wide as he looked at his mentor and his best friend's older brothers. Would there be blood? Would there be tears? Would there be curse words so foul they would make the most seasoned auror blush like a first year?

Possibly.

Probably.

Snape carefully took the roll into both of his hands and tore the small bread in half.

Everyone held their breath.

"Throw something again at me again, Messers Weasley, and you both shall be wearing the entire contents of the table."

In a flash, the two pieces of bread that Snape had been holding left his hands as he threw them in the air. They zoomed in a direct line—

Whump!

—and hit Fred and George in the center of their foreheads.

The two parts to the roll ricocheted off of their intended targets; one landing on the floor near the stove while the other bounced down the table and ended up by Mr. Weasley's plate. The locations of where the pieces of bread ended up are really of no importance in light of the current event, but since this is the last time that the roll will be mentioned, it only seem right that proper respects are paid.

The twin's hands flew up to their foreheads and a surprised yelp was issues from the identical brothers as they were hit.

Silence still reigned at the table as everyone wondered two things. One, was what in the world had just happened and two, was what is the world was going to happen next.

Finally, it was Ginny who broke the stillness.

"Nice aim."

Snape inclined his head over at the seventh year Gryffindor ever so slightly. "Thank you."

"Why did you hit 'em both though?" Ron asked. His dislike of Snape forgotten in the moment.

"Obviously, I did not know which was the culprit. Therefore, I split the difference."

The Potion Master turned back to his plate and began to eat once again.

Like a dam breaking, Harry felt the tension that had been building in the room crack and everyone—including the twins—began to laugh; whether it was from the actual humor in the situation, simple relief, or both, hardly mattered. Snape didn't laugh, but Harry noticed the small hint of a smirk grace the serious face as the man finished his meal.

Soon, the food was gone and the dishes had been spelled to clean themselves as everyone retired from the kitchen and back into the main part of the house. Snape once again had an irritated look to his face since the twins had taken to chanting, "One of us!" over and over again. Apparently, the two men thought it a great achievement on their part to be able to make Severus Snape throw food at someone.

The group began to disband and go their separate ways. Mr. Weasley had managed to talk Remus into going and looking at his newest experiment with a muggle food processor. The balding father had asked Snape as well and while Harry could see the man's desire to make a snide remark about the muggle contraption, he had remained civil and declined. Mrs. Weasley had begun to sing along to a song that was playing on the wireless while her children were doing what they could to get away from the embarrassing scene and sound of their mother singing and dancing loudly to, "Christmas Spell."

Harry was standing out in the main hallway watching all of his friends enjoying their time. He looked over at Snape who was a few steps away, also looking at the scenes around him.

"You alright?" He asked the taller man.

Dark eyes turned to look into bright green.

"Besides a headache, I am no worse the wear," Snape said succinctly.

"Sorry," Harry replied automatically as he messed with one of the sleeves of his new Weasley sweater.

"Surprisingly, it is not your fault this time, Potter."

"Small miracles," Harry said with a smirk.

Snape turned back and watched as Mrs. Weasley tried to get Ron to dance with her and Hermione pushing him to do so. "Indeed."

Harry looked in at the drawing room and the scene made him smile widely.

"You should stay."

"I would intrude."

"Nah. I'll vouch for you."

The sound from an explosion came from upstairs, making both Harry and Snape look up at the ceiling as the antique chandelier shook. Apparently, the twins had decided to use their afternoon and one of Grimmauld's spare bedrooms for experiments for their joke shop.

"I would kill one of the twins if I stayed," Snape said as he continued to look at the swaying light fixture.

"You could try," Harry countered as he brought his eyes back to Snape, "but Mrs. Weasley may just beat you to it."

"She is too busy singing." Snape also brought his face down and back to the younger man.

"Stay long enough and Mr. Weasley will come in and they'll sing a duet."

"I could die a happy man."

Another explosion. This one was bigger than the last and Harry heard a tinkling sound as the crystals in the chandelier clanked together.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Still not want to stay?"

"As much as I would love to continue on with this three ring circus, I have potions that must be brewed."

"Potions aren't everything ya know."

Snape's eyes narrowed and steeled, "I am going to pretend I did not hear that."

"Pretend all you want about your stinky potions," Harry said with a smirk.

"Insufferable little—."

Snape didn't finish as he turned and walked over to the foyer. Harry blinked. Was Snape really mad? He only been joking, but he knew that the Potion Master was very protective about his craft. This abrupt change in mood only proved it.

Dang.

'Note to self: never insult potions.'

"Sir! Wait!" he said as he jogged to catch up.

Snape turned and looked at him. He did not look upset or angry, but his face was a mask of absolutely no emotions.

"I…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made light of your work. What you do is really important for the Order…and everyone else for that matter." Harry had wanted to stop at just, 'I'm sorry,' but his mouth had the bad habit of not stopping when he was around Snape.

Snape looked at him before he drew in a long breath. "That is…alright, Potter. I understand that what you were saying was in jest—though I must say you have a lacking sense of humor."

"Thank you for my chocolate," Harry said as he ran his hand through his hair. Making it even more disheveled.

Snape watched the action, his eyes following Harry's hand. "And you for my stirring rods."

"What's this about rods?" Fred said happily as he and George appeared beside the two men. Harry jumped about a foot at the sudden appearance of the two troublemakers.

"Ohhhh, rods you say? How scandalous!" George replied as he gave a fake, twittering giggle.

"Professor Snape," Fred said with mock seriousness, "You should know better than to talk about your rod with a young and impressionable boy like Harry here." He clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Oh lord," Harry said as he hid his red face in his hands.

"We must go and tell little Ronniekins of this!"

"Oh, yes! Little brother will be ever so happy to hear of Professor Snape and his rod."

The brothers practically skipped off to find their unsuspecting brother. Harry sighed as he watched them leave; he was going to have so much to explain to Ron after this.

"I'll help you kill 'em if you're still game."

The teen turned to the older man when he heard a low chuckle from behind him. Snape had a smirk on his face. Not the sarcastic or demeaning smirk that the man sometimes wore, but what seemed to be a smirk of general amusement. The kind of smirk that was a borderline smile.

"We will begin training again on Sunday Potter. I expect you to be in top form since you have had this little vacation that you so desperately wanted."

Harry gave a salute. "Yes Sir!"

"That is not funny."

"I think it is."

"My point exactly."

"Git."

"Spoiled child."

Harry heard the twins laughing and Ron yelling something unintelligible. "Run, while you still can."

Snape simply continued to smirk as the two exchanged a simple goodbye before the taller wizard apparated off.

Harry walked away from the foyer with a small smile on his face. He didn't know why it made him happy that he and Snape seemed to finally have found some type of truce, all he knew was that it did. Why worry about the why?

"Haaarrryyy!" Ron called out in a whiney voice as he ran up to the younger man, "Fred and George won't stop talking about Professor Snape and a 'rod'. It is giving me bad mental images!"

Harry's eyebrows rose, "You're imagining Snape naked?"

Even as he said that, he had his own image of the stoic potion master in nothing but a sarcastic smile.

Whoa, now.

Harry's face and neck flushed to a color of red that that rivaled the Weasley's hair color. He shook his head violently to try and shake the image out of his ear or something to that effect.

"Not like I want to!" Ron wailed, "They just kept on talking about it! Why did you invite Snape here anyway?"

Harry just rolled his eyes. It was a reaction he was employing more and more the more time he spent with Snape. "Just seemed like the right thing to do, I guess."

The tall red head just shook his head. "Your Hero must be outa whack. It's starting to show itself everywhere."

"Yea, yea, whatever." Harry smiled, but he couldn't seem to get the image of Snape in the buff out of his head; not matter how hard he shook.

Quick! A distraction! Where is a distraction when you need one?

"Wanna play chess?"

Aha! There it is!

"You wanna lose?" Ron smiled and asked. He, too, looked relieved for the change in topic. Or he was just happy for the chance to play chess.

Harry shrugged, "It seems to be a Christmas tradition."

Ron laughed as the two went back into the drawing room to set up a game. Mrs. Weasley continued to sing along with the wireless. She was soon joined by her husband when he and Remus returned a few minutes later. The twins continued to have minor explosions throughout the house and came in from time to time to sing a song or throw itching powder on Ron. Hermione, Remus and Ginny all sat behind Harry and tried to give him tips and hints as Ron beat him at chess, despite his constant itching.

Throughout the evening, Harry's thoughts would drift back to Snape and wonder what the man was up to.

All in all, a very typical end to a most unusual Christmas

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Severus stood in the semi circle in the dimly lit room and tried not to look bored with everything around him.

It was a stretch, but he just barely managed to do it. Voldemort always liked to have some sort of meeting around the holidays. Severus thought it was a narcissistic need to validate how important the Dark Lord was to his followers. He and his meetings should be so important that no matter the situation, one came when called. The snake-man was particularly sadistic during the holidays. If people were late they found themselves suffering a long bout with the _Cruciatus_ curse. Such a great leader. Yes, Severus could see why people were joining his ranks.

This time, the meeting had been called three days after Christmas. The memory of Severus's day with the Weasley's and Potter still very fresh on the Potion Master's mind. He had put up extra shields tonight, just in case the Dark lord tried _Legilimens_ at a random time. Voldemort had not done that for a long time, but Severus was not taking any chances tonight. He looked around and noticed many of the Death Eaters with unpleasant expressions on their faces. They would never voice such displeasure, but it was very obvious that none of the dark minions liked being called away for a meeting that had no purpose.

Because that is exactly what this meeting was.

Useless.

Voldemort rarely had any reason at all for calling his followers on holidays. Again, it is more of an ego boost to the megalomaniac to see just how much control he had on others.

"This is ridiculous!"

Severus heard a snide voice say from behind him. He inwardly cringed. Must be a new Death Eater.

"Why are we even here? We just had a meeting a week ago! This is utter—"

The man did not get to finish his rant as he broke out into an earth shattering scream and crumpled to the floor.

'Right on cue,' Severus thought darkly. He watched the leader of the dark enter into the room and take his usual place in his chair, followed closely by his pet snake and his pet rat, Wormtail.

"You dare quesssstion me, Dermont? You will learn your place," Voldemort said.

He kept his wand trained on the broken and screaming heap on the floor for several more minutes. Severus wondered if this would be all they would be witness to today. He hoped not. His stomach was already turning from the blood curdling wails.

Eventually, red eyes looked away and the monster of a man lowered his wand, ending the curse. The man, Dermont, stayed where he lay making a strange gurgling noise. It did not last long. Not because the man stopped, but because Voldemort had cast a silencing charm on him.

"Doessss anyone elssse feel the need to expressss dissspleassssure over the meetingssss?"

No one said a word.

Severus fought not to snort.

That would almost be like asking someone if they wanted to french kiss a Hippogriff.

People were going to say no and if—by some insane chance—someone said yes, in the end, they would wind up severely injured.

Hippogriffs did not like to be kissed.

But that is beside the point.

"I have called you all here today to tell you that I have sssent a messssage to the Minissstry," the hissing voice rang out and interrupted Severus's thoughts.

The Potion Master heard a faint whispering coming from behind him. Again, Severus was reminded how many new followers had joined the ranks. They thought that the Dark Lord felt the Ministry of Magic were all fools and below him, like vermin not to be associated with, but avoided and exterminated as soon as possible. Severus knew the truth, as did any of the older followers with half a brain—if there were any left. Voldemort hated the Ministry, but he absolutely loved to talk to the Ministry. Well, not talk. That word implies more of a two sided exchange. Voldemort more liked to send messages and taunts to the Ministry to see what kind of panic or chaos he could induce. With Fudge as Minister, that should not be very hard to accomplish.

This was the first time during this war, though, that the Dark Lord had sent a specific missive to the wizarding governments. Until now, he had used subtle insinuations and manipulations from spies placed at the Ministry in order to get a point across or to assist in one of his plans. Severus wondered what was so great that it deemed a direct message from Voldemort himself.

"SSSilence!"

Instantly, the room complied.

Red eyes peered at them for a moment with a self-satisfied glint to them. In fact, the whole sunken in face looked entirely too pleased with himself, but then again, it always did.

Severus waited for the man…snake…whatever…to divulge what the message was. He had a sinking feeling that—

"That issss all."

—that was going to happen.

Again there was an air of agitation amongst the ranks, but this time, people knew better than to voice their opinion. No one wanted to end up like Dermont. The dark hooded figures began to file out of the room to return to their holiday, when they were stopped one last time by their sibilant leader.

"Oh, and one other thing," he replied quietly as he raised a boney white hand, "I have become sssussspicious that there isss a sssspy ssslithering amidssst our numbersss."

Severus felt himself tense, but kept his mask up impeccably. Voldemort was highly paranoid. While there could be a chance that the man had actual evidence that pointed to a spy, it could also be the case that he was simply spouting theory because of his insecurities.

"We are all most faithful to you my lord!" cried a brown headed man to Severus's right.

'Brown-noser,' Severus thought as he stole a glance at the overenthusiastic Death Eater.

"I do not believe ssso anymore. Our lassst battle went assss planned, but I feel that the Order were aware of our movementssss far too quickly for it to be coincidence."

Voldemort paused as he once again surveyed the room. When he spoke again, it was in an even lower tone. A tone that Severus knew belayed the dark wizards true anger.

"Resssst assured, when they are found, they will be tortured and eradicated."

Silence followed.

Voldemort simply made a dismissive wave of his hand, signaling once again that the meeting was adjourned.

Severus began to exit out with the rest of the Death Eaters, glad that this obligatory hell was finally over for the day.

"Ssseverusss, a word."

'Damn.'

"Yes, my Lord?" He turned back to see Voldemort rising and walking slowly towards him. Severus had thought that he would not have a report, since he had given one so recently and usually was not required to for these little fake meetings. It appeared though, that Voldemort had not gotten all of his jollies out of the way by torturing Dermont, who was now being dragged out of the room by Wormtail.

Lord Voldemort walked right up to Severus to look him square in the eye. Red to almost black. Voldemort stared at him a moment with an unreadable expression; Severus made sure his modified memories were in place in case the man decided to enter his mind unannounced.

That did not happen though.

Instead, Voldemort remained very stone faced.

"Sssay hello to Dumbledore for me."

Voldemort had often said things like this to Severus when the Potion Master had given his reports. Usually though, it was said with an air of smugness, not in the low, quiet…and deadly tone being used now.

Severus stood stock still as he watched the cruel, insane, and equally powerful wizard turn and walk down an equally dim hallway.

'There is just…no way.'

His blood ran cold.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'There has got to be an easier way to do this,' Harry thought for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

All signs and situations, though, seemed to point to the opposite.

Since the house was still full of Weasleys, Harry had become very creative in finding places to attempt to meditate. Currently, he was sitting cross-legged under the sitting room that contained the Black family tapestry. He couldn't get rid of the decorations, but sitting under one of the little tables covered by a linen tablecloth provided a decent amount of cover from the distraction. Actually, Harry was reminded of being a small child and watching as Dudley made forts and tents throughout the house, easily destroying the whole living room. Harry had never gotten to play in those forts, but he had gotten to clean them up quite often. So he sat under his little makeshift fort and tried to find a way to clear his mind and relax.

The book that Dumbledore—Albus—had given him had suggested that if mantras were not effective, then to try and envision an internal place of relaxation. Harry thought this was about as clear as, 'find your center,' but he was willing to give it a shot. At first, he had tried to just blank out his mind, which he thought was the ultimate goal. Imagining just black though was impossible for the teen and soon he found himself thinking of all sorts of things. Lists, training, people and places; it seemed that the more he tried to imagine thinking of nothing, the more he thought about everything.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh and opened his eyes. "This is getting me nowhere," he muttered to himself as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Okay, so, thinking of thinking of nothing is just confusing and I keep thinking of everything instead."

Harry was glad he was just going crazy and talking to himself, because that sentence sounded like nonsense even to him.

He sighed again, "Maybe Snape was right."

Harry's mind instantly rejected that statement though. That would mean quitting.

He may think this idea is a little farfetched now, but he was still stubborn enough to see it through to the end. He would not quit.

Besides, even if it didn't get him to do wandless magic or only helped a little, it couldn't hurt to continue, right?

"Nope, doesn't hurt…just makes me look silly."

Harry closed his eyes to try again.

This time, he didn't focus of trying to think of nothing, but instead, he let his mind wander.

Daydream.

Eventually, he imagined he was flying. He had not gotten to fly on his Firebolt for months now and desperately missed the rush and freedom that came from racing around in the sky. His mind saw clouds passing him by and only blue sky as far as the eye could see. He dove and turned and even imagined that elusive golden snitch fluttering just out of his reach and his pursuit of the quidditch prize.

The daydream mellowed after a time and Harry was so caught up in the dream to realize the change. Instead of flying around at a break neck, adrenaline-filled speed, it moved to where harry was simply floating amongst the sky; clouds lazily flowing around him. That morphed as well, when slowly the clouds began to pass him by and no other clouds came into his vision.

Only blue sky.

Harry had one last thought before he succumbed to the blue that washed all around them. 'This is kinda nice….'

Harry stayed in this comforting, blue place for what felt like hours.

Or only a few minutes.

Time really didn't matter.

After that indeterminable amount of time had passed though, Harry became oddly aware in the back of his mind that he wasn't alone. Not in the blue space, but outside of it. Reluctantly, he made a conscious effort to leave this quiet peace. The blue began to fade back to the black of his eyes behind his eyelids.

Slowly, his brilliant green eyes opened.

To come face to face with Albus Dumbledore.

Harry startled and jumped—hitting his head on the underside of the table—at seeing his mentor's head poking in through the linen of the table cover.

Albus chuckled, "I am so sorry to bother what looked to be a most fruitful meditation session. Might I also say that you have found a premium spot to conduct your ruminations. I myself will sometimes seek solitude by sitting under my desk."

Had this been anyone else, Harry would have thought the man was making fun of him for being a grown adult sitting under a table. Since it was Albus, however, he knew the man was being serious.

"Is that the only reason you hide under there?" Harry said with a small smile as he rubbed the bump on his head.

Albus's blue eyes twinkled for a moment. "Well, like you, I also will take refuge in hopes that my colleagues will not find me as easily. Especially when Minerva is mad at me."

Harry laughed as the silver haired man disappeared and he was able to crawl out from the table. He stood slowly, realizing he must have been under there longer than he thought since his body groaned with protest as he stretched completely.

His smile faded though when he got a good look at his elderly friend and teacher. The man's robes were a faded grey blue and very simple. It did not even look like he had a hat to go with the ensemble. Though there had been some joking coming from the old wizard, Harry had a feeling that Albus was not bearing the best of news.

"Uh, how was your trip, sir?"

Albus smiled slightly, he would let the teen's formality pass this time. It went as could be expected. I must say though, that I had not been swimming in the ocean for quite some time. Quite cold this time of year, but the Merpeople appreciate such gestures."

Harry had an image of Dumbledore wearing swimming trunks and had to cough to cover up his laugh. He didn't think Albus would mind, but now that he knew that the other man was here for serious business, he did not think it appropriate.

"Come Harry, let us sit and have tea. I am sure you are hungry."

On cue, Harry's stomach growled.

'How does he do that?'

Harry followed Albus into the kitchen, surprised that the tea was already set for them. Their conversation stayed relatively mundane. Both catching up on the others activities in the past few weeks. The twinkle had returned to Albus's eyes for a time as Harry relayed the story of Snape joining them for Christmas lunch. Harry heard more about Albus's adventures with the Merpeople, including one enamored merwoman. It seemed very casual, but Harry still held his suspicions that there was more to the meeting then idle chitchat. He was proven right towards the end of the tea.

He really wished he was wrong.

"Sir—Albus—not that I don't enjoy your company, but…is something going on?"

"Wrong? Why would there be something wrong, my boy?" Albus asked as he took a sip of tea.

"Because you are wearing dull robes. Dull robes mean you're not having a good go of it."

Harry knew it was a blunt statement, but the more Dumbledore appeared to be avoiding why he visited, the more anxious the teen got.

Albus gave a small, sad smile. "Am I that predictable? Dear me. Well, no sense putting it off, I suppose. You are correct; I come bearing not so good news, Harry."

'Fantastic,' Harry thought as he too returned his cup to his saucer.

"It appears that Voldemort has sent a message to the Ministry."

Harry blinked. "He did what?"

"During the first war, Voldemort enjoyed sending messages to the Ministry. Sometimes, it would be taunts or explanations for why certain attacks took place, other times it was vague messages that foretold of future attacks, and other times it was simply to voice his opinion of what he felt was wronged with the world and what he was going to do to rectify those problems. No matter what the message, the purpose was always to cause unrest and panic within the wizarding world."

Harry nodded as the silver haired headmaster continued.

"He had not employed such a tactic in this new war until just yesterday. His new message was an ultimatum, a personal favorite of Tom's since it caused the most sensation."

Harry nodded again, though he really didn't like where this was going. "What…what was the ultimatum?"

Albus sighed and rubbed his face with a weathered, aged hand. "He has claimed that the Death Eater attacks, violence and death towards the wizarding community will increase tenfold unless his requirement is met."

The teen really did not want to ask.

Don't ask.

Just…leave it alone.

"What is the requirement?"

Had to ask.

"That you turn yourself over to him."

Harry felt his stomach bottoming out. Suddenly, his head felt a hundred times heavier and he caught it in his hands before it fell to the floor. "Oh."

"This is simply an idle threat, Harry. Do not let it trouble you, my boy. Tom has made similar threats in the past. In all actuality, he is just giving himself an excuse to start upping his offensive. He would do so no matter what the Ministry does."

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He knew the man was trying to comfort him, but it wasn't working.

"So," Harry muffled out through the sleeves of his oversized jumper, "after this, when there is an attack, then people are going to start blaming me and the fact that I didn't give myself up?"

"That is his wish."

"Bloody fantastic." He didn't even care if he cursed in front of Albus. He just really didn't care.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Your performance today left much to be desired, Potter," Snape said as he pulled off his outer robe and dispelled a large, circular area of the snow they had just been running and dueling in.

"Thanks," Harry replied flatly as he took off his jacket and unshrunk the red boxing gloves.

The young man had been glad that it was Friday. His brain was tired. Ever since he had had that talk with Albus two days ago and heard the news of Voldemort's ultimatum, he had not had a moment's peace inside his own mind. It had not taken long for the rest of the household to hear the news since Mr. Weasley worked at the Ministry, so he had to also constantly have to deal with people trying to reassure him that nothing was his fault and he had nothing to worry about.

Easier said than done.

His mind kept going over how this move affected the game that the dark and light were playing with each other. He could not meditate now if his life depended on it. He dueled about as well as a fourth year and the really sad part was that even though Snape taunted and made fun of him as he always did when they fought, he just couldn't bring himself to respond and fight back. His head was just constantly filled with thoughts about Voldemort and his demand. He needed a mindless activity.

Nothing more mindless that willingly agreeing to get punched in the face.

"I trust that you have remembered the proper heating spells?"

"I have now," Harry waved his wand over his worn sweater, pullover, and jeans, muttering the spell. He instantly felt the effect and his clothes became a comfortable temperature.

Snape snorted. "Brainless little twit," he said under his breath.

Not quite enough though; Harry heard it quite clear. He simply shrugged and continued to get ready for their boxing match.

After muttering the proper protection charms and putting on their gloves, the two dark haired wizards began their bout almost immediately.

They swung and hit. Dodged and parried. Some hits made contact. Some didn't. The subconscious dance continued in silence with only the sound of the gloves if they ever came in contact with their opponent and the crunching of the frozen ground beneath their feet. The silence though, seemed to weigh on Harry.

He had thought boxing would have cleared his mind.

He was wrong.

As he swung his right arm around to land a blow to Snape's side, he found his mouth working on its own volition.

"Where do you go all the time?"

Snape took the blow and threw one of his own. Harry blocked it, but he couldn't block the one that came after that. It got his square in the stomach. The two staggered back for a moment.

"That is an idiotic question to ask at such a time Potter!" Snape said as he came back and tried to hit the younger man again.

"I don't care. Where are you when you're late? When you don't show up?" Harry took a blow to the cheek, but it was only a graze since he had already taken steps to get out of the way.

A few more hits were exchanged before Snape grounded out, "Death Eater meetings. The Dark Lord finds it appealing that he can call his followers at whim."

Harry nodded, even though he knew the other man could not see the motion. Their feet and hands continued to move. Harry started to think that perhaps the heating spells were not necessary anymore. The constant movement was starting to warm him up to the point that a fine sweat was starting to form on his brow.

They kept fighting.

Again, though, Harry soon found his mouth having the urge to speak. "Did you know?"

'Dang it! Don't bring this up!" his mind screamed.

Too late.

Snape's gloved fist came around and made contact again, but it was only with Harry's shoulder, so the pain was very minimal.

"I know a lot of things, Potter. You will need to be more specific."

Harry ducked to avoid a punch. "About the ultimatum. Did he tell you that at one of your meetings?"

Severus knew what the boy was talking about now. Though Voldemort had not told them at the meeting, the very next day it was blasted across the papers and the talk about the streets that the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would stop as soon as Potter turned himself in. If he did not get the boy, then the violence would increase. Severus knew that the bargain was completely false. Voldemort would not stop if the boy turned himself in. In fact, he would be just as bad, if not worse. Most likely worse.

"I was aware that something was in the works," Severus said as he blocked a punch from the boy's left fist, "But it was not until after that I was aware of the actual contents of his message."

"What are people saying?" Harry knew that Snape knew. The man knew everything. Almost like Dumbledore, only creepier.

Scratch that.

Scarier.

"Feeling sorry for oneself, Potter?" Snape said with a sneer as he took a blow to his right cheek.

"Shut it! Just tell me what people are saying about it?"

"They want you to do it."

The statement was said so seriously and quietly that it took Harry by surprise and he faltered. He was not paying attention for that split second as Snape's fist came around and clocked him right in the side of the head.

Bring on the stars.

Harry stumbled backwards and sat down on the cold earth before he fell down. He looked up at the taller Potion Master who was panting heavily and looking down at him.

'Always looking down at me.'

"Is that what they really think?"

He knew that Snape never lied to him. Especially about unpleasant things such as this, but the news had proven some of his worse fears true. People wanted him to give himself up.

"Yes. As of right now, the general public has been fed enough propaganda by the Ministry to believe that you giving yourself up is the best thing for the war."

"The Ministry?"

Snape sighed, "The Minister has been declining in approval from the wizarding people. He needs a scapegoat to take the heat off of his mishandling of the war so far."

"Lemme guess, you're looking at the scapegoat?"

"Yes."

"Perfect," Harry said viciously as he ripped off his gloves and threw them on the ground beside him. His uncovered hands found their way to his hair as he cradled his head in his hands. "Just abso-bloody-lutely wonderful."

Harry heard noises above him. Snape must have been taking off his gloves as well. "It will blow over Potter. You need not become overly absorbed in useless things."

"And if it doesn't blow over? If the fighting increases? If the deaths increase?"

"They will no doubt increase, Potter. He was planning on more attacks long before this message was ever sent. Voldemort merely wants to play mind games with you. Obviously, it is working like a charm."

Harry then felt something very weird. Almost as though he sensed something in the air around him. It was like the feeling that he got when he became upset and performed accidental magic or a strong spell, only different. He looked up into the air to see what was different. The only thing he saw was Snape performing healing spells on his own face and limbs. He shook his head and returned his head to his hands, resting his elbows on his knees.

Boxing had helped so much in the past. Why hadn't it helped now?

Harry sighed, "Maybe I should just give up and turn myself over to Voldemort. Put a big shiny ribbon on my head while I'm at it," he said bitterly, "What does it even matter? At least that way it would all be over."

The teen barely even heard the footsteps before his head was yanked up from his hands and he found his face held in between Snape's large hands and his green eyes staring right into the older man's dark brown.

"Listen, and listen well," Snape said in a low hiss, "You are to never—ever—talk about giving up again. Am I clear?"

Harry could only manage a tiny nod. His eyes were wide as he looked back at his instructor.

"You can sit here and let this eat you up with guilt and self-pity, which is exactly what Voldemort wants, or you can use this to actually fight harder. Are you really that worried what the wizarding world thinks of you?"

"No. But I don't want there to be any more deaths because of me," the teen replied sadly.

Snape huffed in irritation. "The deaths are on Voldemort's hands. Not yours. Get that through your thick scull, you over-emotional Gryffindor."

"I just want to do the right thing."

"Of course you do. You are very single minded in that respect at times."

"So what do I do?"

"You are asking me?"

"I'm not asking the tree."

The two looked at each other for a while in the snow. The young man sitting solemnly as the older wizard kneeled in front of him. Snapes hands continued to hold Harry's head between them.

"You keep fighting," Snape finally said, "You keep training and fighting and you figure out how to win. That is what you do."

"That's easier said than done."

"No one said it would be easy."

"What if I fail?" It was a fear that had been plaguing Harry for some time now. One that he had not been able to voice until now.

Snape finally released Harry's head. He brought up his wand and silently healed the bruises and cuts he had received from the duel and the boxing match. It was only after he was done healing the last of Harry's injuries, a cut on Harry's brow from a particularly nasty blow, that he looked back into those bright green eyes.

"You will not fail."

"But—"

"You will not fail," Snape repeated as he stood and offered his hand to the seated young wizard, "Not if I have anything to say about it."

Harry took the hand and stood back up on his feet. He continued to look up at Snape. "Thank you."

The older man snorted, "Are we done with this little pity party?"

Harry nodded and watched as the older man turned to gather his things to go back to Grimmauld. The teenager also began to prepare to leave. He put on his coat and buttoned it up to cover the blood that had gotten on his clothing. His mind replayed the conversation in his head. Maybe it wasn't just the boxing that helped. Maybe it was the person he was boxing with.

'I will not fail…'

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Thank you so for reading Chapter 5!

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Teaser for next chapter:

You were the perfect sssspy Sssseverus…

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I would love to hear what you guys thought! So…Review? Pretty please?


	7. I, Spy

**A/N: **Thank you for all of the reviews, alerts and favorites! I am so happy that more and more people are becoming interested in this story.

I should apologize for the last chapter. A lot of you guys were not impressed with the teaser. Lol, when I wrote it, I didn't realize how agitated it would make people. My beta says she sympathizes with all the readers. She was not impressed at all when she read that….I really try to make my beta happy. She makes sure my writing doesn't stink.

On that note: Big thanks go to **Invader Shawn **for being my gracious beta and putting up me.

*Please be aware that there is strong language in this chapter. And I don't mean the type that can lift a lot of weight*

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Chapter 6: I, Spy

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_Yes, and isn't that just wonderful. – Bellatrix Lestrange_

A dark, looming figure stood over a cauldron of boiling blue liquid, slowly adding a pinch of some unknown dust. The concoction instantly changed from blue to a vibrant orange as soon as the powder struck the liquid surface. It now seemed to take on a luminous quality and actually did glow a bit, giving the potion brewer a slight orange tinge to his face as he began to stir the brew in a clock-wise motion.

When he was more than satisfied with the consistency and the color, Severus Snape turned down the fire burning brightly and allowed the bruise salve that he had been working on to simmer until it was more unctuous. After that was done, the tall, stoic man set on the task of cleaning up his workstation and getting the vials ready for bottling. He was in his element, a fact that, under normal circumstances, would have given him a sense of power and control, but, as he had found out countless potions ago, that was not the case anymore.

Time had passed with an uneasy quiet for Severus. The few days after Christmas soon became a few more, then a few more, and finally those days morphed into three weeks that had passed by in relatively unpleasant stillness. The Potions Master usually enjoyed the calm; those times when things simply took on their normal routine and nothing unexpected happened. His years as a spy had taught him that nothing good could or would ever come from the unexpected. This time, however, Severus was not able to enjoy his routine. He went about his usual pattern as normally as he could: he taught classes, attended meetings, and trained.

The comfort and security that had once been there from his strict and uninterrupted schedule, though, was now a cause for great worry for Severus, because it was not routine anymore.

None of it was.

It was still the same actions, but everything about them had changed completely.

Totally.

Unsettlingly.

Ever since that night, when he had first became aware of Voldemort's suspicions of him and his role in the war, he had not been able to confidently focus on his classes since the students returned to Hogwarts a week and a half ago. While he was still able to keep order in the class and still inspire a certain level of intimidation, he mostly assigned the children bookwork or simple potions that would require as little involvement on his part as possible. Luckily, this was more than easy to do with the upper level classes, leaving Severus more than relieved that he only had to deal with them and not the younger years. Considering his current state of agitation, he very well might have strung an eleven year old upside down by his shoelaces during class. He knew that was not a proper form of punishment under the Teaching Code, but he could always just feign ignorance and claim he had never read the blasted thing anyway. Severus spent most of the time locked in his own mind, going over his previous actions and those that had happened since then.

He had to constantly be on his toes during not only the Death Eater meetings, but the Order meetings as well. Severs knew that the second that he told Albus that his cover was in jeopardy of being blown, the headmaster would immediately order him to never go back. That could not happen.

He would not let it happen.

This was his atonement. His contribution. He knew how important it was that he continued to get information on the Death Eater activities and Voldemort's plans. To stop doing so would immediately put the Order at a disadvantage. That was not an option.

So he never told Albus.

He just had to be even more aware of himself and his actions during Death Eater summons. That was all. In the three meetings since the one at Christmastime, things had been strained, but neither the Dark Lord, nor any of the other Death Eaters mentioned the threat of a spy in their midst. There had been a few new attacks; mostly small ones that were designed to cause panic and paranoia in the wizarding world. Voldemort had started to hint that a more extensive attack would take place, and each time his eyes would drift over to Severus. It was a test. Voldemort may have hinted that he thought it he who was the spy, but it was only a theory.

A hypothesis.

Severus, as a Potions Master, knew what came after one formed a hypothesis:

One performs experiments and tests to see if their hypothesis is correct.

Now, every action or directive given by the red eyed leader seemed so much more significant to Severus because now he was hyper aware of the game that he was now playing with the dangerous wizard. For that was what this was. A game of cat and mouse.

And Severus, as loath as he was to admit it, was more easily recognized as the rodent side of that than the feline.

One slip. One misstep and it would all be over.

Severus was not daunted though.

'I may be the mouse,' Severus thought as he began to bottle the thick salve, "but I am a damn smart mouse.'

He shook his head, realizing that he must be tired, crazy, or both if he was accepting the fact that this war had turned him not only into a puppet, but a mouse as well, and his only defense was that he was smart. What good was being smart when your life and your brain were merely playthings between two forces in a war? What else was he going to be before this was all over?

A patsy?

A wind-up toy?

A ballerina?

A fool?

…Dead?

It was a depressing thought, but one that Severus could not avoid. Every meeting, Severus could feel those red eyes boring into him; his mind constantly feeling the presence of the other wizard prodding his thoughts and feelings. Since he could not keep up his Occlumency shields without raising more attention, he had to constantly have fake memories running through his mind. It was tiring and difficult, but it could be done.

It was all a matter of will.

But, sadly, Severus knew that the end was near.

Voldemort may not have true proof that the Potions Master was a spy for the Order, but a lack of evidence had ever stopped the dark leader in the past. In fact, quite the opposite. For someone who thought himself methodical and genius, the wizard was prone to fits of acting on the most irrational of beliefs. A true study is psychopathic behavior. All he needed was one reason. Just one and that would be it.

Severus made it a point to report even more on the Order's and Albus's business and goings on in an effort to reassert his importance as a spy for the Dark Lord, but he knew that despite his efforts, Voldemort still held that paranoia and would always have it. Eventually, it would eat him to the point that he would act on it without reason.

Severus just hoped that he would have done enough before that happened.

A small vial slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor, the silence broken by the awful tinkling sound of shattered glass. Small shards spread out across the floor in a chaotic pattern. The candlelight caught the tiny glass pieces, making them sparkle, like stars against a cold grey sky.

Severus looked down at what had oddly become a beautiful scene. It wouldn't be enough. Nothing he did would ever be enough.

He still had so much to do.

He still had potions to brew. Idiot children to teach. Books to read. Boxing with Potter.

He did not want to die.

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"We will not be training today, Potter," Snape said as they apparated to the training field.

It had gotten a little warmer that past week, allowing most of the snow that had covered the wooded area to melt. Now, only a few patches here or there remained, leaving the land with an almost polka-dot effect.

"We aren't? Then what are we doing here?" Harry asked as he removed his cloak and cast a few heating spells on his clothes.

"Is it common for muggles to look as though they are homeless?"

Harry blinked and looked down at his clothes. "I don't look homeless."

"I beg to differ. You wear oversized clothes in far too many layers and everything seems to have three or more holes in them."

Harry's hand immediately came up to cover one of the larger holes in his green jumper. "So, have we come here to discuss my fashion tastes, sir?" He said sarcastically. "Or is there an actual reason?"

"It is Friday, is it not? Or has your little mind simply lost the ability to keep track of time?"

"You just want to box?"

"You are a genius, Potter. Did you bring the gloves?" Severus muttered darkly as he too removed his cloak and outer robe.

"Uh, yea, sure, 'course I did. Um…"

"Spit it out, Potter?"

"Why don't you want to train, sir?"

Why in the world was Harry asking that?

Glutton for punishment.

Snape paused with folding his robe. He looked over at the green-eyed teen. "There will be other days to train, Potter. We have been working all week," he said quietly and then returned to setting his clothes beside a tree.

Harry did not have a good feeling about all of this. Normally, he would have been happy that he would be spared the hex marks to heal and no numbing from all the stinging curses. However, the way that Snape was acting made him feel more than a little apprehensive.

The older wizard had been doing out of character things ever since they had started to box, but now there was a melancholy to the man that was so unlike him. Harry wondered if the man even knew that he was acting this way. He also wondered if anyone else noticed either. It had been this way at the meetings as well. He would give his reports, but would otherwise sit back and kept his eyes down and stared at the table. The meeting would continue, but Harry always found his eyes trailing back to look at the dark man.

Like right now, anytime he looked at Snape, it was like looking at a ghost of the Potions professor.

Harry slowly brought the gloves out of his pocket and enlarged them, tossing a pair to Snape who caught them easily. The two put the gloves on in silence.

"These things keep your hands warm," Harry said quietly as he looked down at the red, padded mitts.

Snape merely grunted. "Are you ready to begin?"

Harry nodded, cast the spell to protect his teeth and stepped up in front of his opponent.

Snape began in earnest, throwing punches with a force that took Harry by surprise. He stumbled back after the first hit to his stomach nearly knocked the wind out of him.

'He isn't messing around,' Harry thought off-handedly as he stepped back up to deliver a hit of his own.

They had never really held back during these matches, the bloody noses and black eyes a testament to that, but it was obvious that the Potion Master was putting even more energy into this fight than he had in the past.

Harry barely missed what looked like a particularly hard right hook to the eye when he finally found himself in desperate curiosity.

"Sir? What's wrong?" He puffed out as he ducked and landed an upper-cut into Snape's side.

Snape countered and Harry saw stars for a moment as the taller man's fist came into contact with his cheek.

"There is nothing wrong, Potter."

"But there is." More punches and blocks were exchanged. "You never say we shouldn't train. What's different about today?"

"Mind your own business, Potter!" Snape all but yelled as he swung around with a mighty force. The hit connected with Harry's stomach. This time, the air really did leave the teen's lungs. Harry didn't stop though. He had been through enough training to be able to move pretty well even when he was completely out of breath.

"Is it," he gasped out, "is it got something to do with your classes?"

"Mind your damn business, little boy!"

Harry opened his mouth to retaliate, but closed it again with a snap that probably made a sound, but it was lost within the sea of punches and heavy breathing.

Snape's hits were still so forceful that Harry did not realize that every other hit, he was taking a step backwards and Snape was unconsciously following the movement.

"Is it Voldemort?"

"Shut up!"

Harry was more stunned by the man's words than by the hit that followed them. Snape said many things, like 'silence' and 'quiet.' The man did not say 'shut up.'

Severus knew he was getting angry, that he was taking out a lot of aggression with this, but had that not been why they started these little boxing matches in the first place? To relieve some of the tension that seemed to build up in their lives because of the war? Well, that is exactly what he was doing.

Last night had been bad.

Real bad.

The kind of bad that makes crawling into a hole in the ground sound like Shangri-La, kind of bad.

There had been yet another meeting. It was simple enough. A report here and there about the recent attacks on both wizards and muggles. New orders were given, including a directive that the next time they were called, it would be for an attack and to be ready. No, it wasn't till the end of the meeting that things had gotten bad. Voldemort had asked him to stay behind, but instead of inquiring about Dumbledore and Potter, he had asked about the headquarters. More specifically, he had asked where it was and how to get in.

Severus had quickly and smoothly lied, saying that he was not privy to that information and had always traveled by a portkey given to him by Albus.

This had been the story he had given from the very beginning, and at the time it had been acceptable, since there had also been a question to Dumbledore's trust of the Potions professor. Now, though, it did not seem like that excuse would hold, and the Dark Lord kept pressing the issue.

Severus kept to his lie, but knew that this sudden interest in this matter was another test.

One that he may have very well failed.

Voldemort was not stupid. Severus was close to Dumbledore, and Voldemort knew that. It had been a part of his job as a spy; to gain the trust of the elderly wizard and become a part of the man's inner circle and report on the information he found within. Severus had done that.

To an extent.

It seemed that Voldemort was starting to register Severus's half-truths.

The dark haired wizard had wondered how the Dark Lord had managed to target him in this investigation. It was obvious that he was the only one being investigated.

As he was leaving, he looked over at Wormtail, who was standing in his usual corner. The small, nasty little man's eyes held an odd glint to them.

It was the same look that he had seen in Bella's during the last meeting when their eyes had locked. With her, though, there had also been one of those little, twisted smiles that Bella was known to do when she was thinking of killing or causing chaos.

At the time, Severus had simply brushed it aside as a crazy woman away in her own crazy world. Clearly, it was something different. A fission of anger shot through him. His eyes widened and his teeth clenched as he marched out of the door. It was then that he believed that there was nothing he could have done to prevent what was happening.

It was not anything he had done.

Severus had not made a mistake.

This was a plot by a jealous bitch who felt that she was the only one worthy of the Dark Lord's personal trust, and a little worm of a man who would do anything when frightened enough.

Voldemort was getting just this side of psychotic enough to be paranoid from the very beginning. Add to that the fact that Bella was the little pet of the group and all she had to do was mention, "spy," and the Dark Lord would be ready to kill.

Severus left the old manor angry. Angry at Bella and Wormtail. Angry at Voldemort. Angry at Dumbledore.

Just angry.

He knew the risks and had agreed to be the double agent, but now that he was actually facing those consequences, he could not help but react.

With every punch, every jab, he put all of the anger he could into each hit. He felt his muscles straining.

The pain was acceptable, welcomed even.

His mind began to go blank. All he focused on was the anger and the pain.

Harry kept backing up with every hit. They seemed to be getting harder, more frequent. Harry had long since stopped hitting back and now simply tried his best to block the powerful blows coming from the taller wizard. It started to feel more like living back in the Dursleys again, where he couldn't fight back, only dodge and pray. Every so often he would catch a glimpse of Snape's face. The man seemed to be a million miles away. His eyes were unfocused, and his jaw was set in a very sharp edge.

He looked incredibly angry.

Harry was passed worried now.

Now he was a little frightened.

He was used to every look he had ever seen Snape given him. This was new. Different.

"Snape?" Harry said uncertainly as he brought up his arms to block a hit.

The man did not seem to have heard him and kept up with his barrage of punches.

"Snape?" Harry asked again, this time louder.

Still no answer.

Still more slams of the fist.

"Snape!"

Harry was getting desperate. The man was not snapping out of whatever world he had drifted into. The teen took one more step back and felt his back hit the rough bark of a tree.

"Severus!" Harry yelled.

At that moment, the tall man's glove hit Harry square in the nose. Harry's head reeled back from the blow and connected with the tree behind him.

Thwack!

Severus had heard his name being called, but could not seem to place where it was coming from. It seemed to be getting louder and louder, until finally he heard his given name being yelled as if the person was right in front of him. In a blink of an eye, he was back in the middle of the field, boxing with Potter.

Potter!

Severus was already in mid-punch by the time he regained his bearings, and he did not stop himself in time from hitting the boy in the face, sending the teen's head back into the tree.

Severus watched as those green eyes took on a glazed, dizzy look to them and slowly closed as he slid down the tree.

'What have I done?' Severus thought as he quickly tore off the gloves and threw them to the ground.

He quickly kneeled down next to Potter beside the tree and sat the boy up to inspect the damage and to revive him. The messy haired head lolled to the side; Severus decided to cradle the head in his hand to prevent any more trauma. With one hand at Potter's cheek, holding his head up, Severus slid his other hand around to inspect the back of the boy's head.

'No abrasions or blood. That is a good sign. Hm, the boy's hair is actually quite soft.'

Severus mentally slapped himself for the inane thought at such a time as this. Luckily, though, Potter began to groan and stir, saving Severus from examining why his mind felt it necessary to notice the texture of the boy's hair.

When Harry finally opened his eyes again, the first thing he noticed was that he had a splitting headache. The second thing he noticed was that Snape's hand was on his cheek. The warm hand felt good against his cold cheek.

'He should keep his hand there.' Harry blinked and replayed that thought again. 'Snape must have hit me harder than I thought.'

"Potter, what day is today?"

"Just another day I get my arse handed to me by you, sir."

"Wonderful to see that I did not knock the sense of humor out of you, Potter. Now kindly tell me what day of the week this is."

"Friday." Like he could forget. He had the red cloves still strapped to his hands.

"What is your name?"

"Lula-belle."

"Potter—"

"Harry. My name is Harry."

"Good. You seem to be only mildly concussed. It is most fortunate that you have a thick scull," Severus said as he brought his hand away from Harry's cheek.

"Oh, yea, most fortunate indeed," the teen replied sarcastically. He rubbed the back of his head. He felt the beginnings of a nice knot right at the back and winced as his fingers touched it. He also tried really hard not to think about why he was a little sad that the warm hand had gone away.

Severus reached into his pocket and retrieved his wand to perform the necessary healing charms. Harry, used to this routine, sat there and allowed the man to fix the cuts and bruises.

"You alright?" he finally asked.

Snape jerked his head up to look the young man in the eyes. "Am I alright?"

"Uh, yea. You seemed a little worked up."

"I…apologize for that Potter. I have been dealing with some issues at the moment and let my emotions associated with those issues influence my actions in a most destructive manner."

Harry just continued to look up into those dark eyes. "Say what now?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a huff of frustration. "Mercy upon us all, you already had so few brain cells and I went and killed even more."

The messy haired teen only shrugged. "You never answered my question."

"Which one? You ask so many."

"Are you alright?"

Snape sighed and then did something that Harry did not expect. He sat down on the ground in front of Harry, criss-crossing his legs to a comfortable position. It was a very odd and informal act from the staunch professor.

"You do not need to concern yourself with my welfare, Potter."

"Still not answering the question."

"What if I were to tell you to mind you own little business?" Snape snapped.

Harry was not daunted though. The man might sound angry, but he was still sitting on the ground. That had to mean something.

The younger wizard simply stayed quiet and waited. It was almost like a staring contest and Harry was not about to break. He was rewarded for his patience, though. Eventually, Snape let out a huff though his nose.

"You were correct. I am having issues with Voldemort."

Understatement of the century.

"Oh," Harry replied lamely. He wasn't sure how to actually respond now that he had his answer. "You want to talk about it?"

Severus snorted. "No. I do not wish to talk about it."

Who would want to willingly discuss the fact that they could very well be facing death and know about it? Severus surely did not. Least of all with Potter. Why was the boy even interested? Why did he seem to care? Bloody Gryffindor.

"Do you wanna…I dunno, talk about other stuff?"

"Potter, you do not have to feel that it is your responsibility to—"

"I found a book on potions yesterday in the Black's library."

Severus quirked an eyebrow. "Good for you. You are telling me this…why?"

"I read it. Well, I started to read it."

Where was the boy going with this?

"Again, you have my congratulations."

"I have some questions."

"I am sure you do. You seem to be a plethora of annoying questions. Very well, proceed."

Harry smiled and began to ask his questions about the book. It had been a high-level potions book, and given the fact that Harry had a less than stellar grasp on potions in the first place, the young man had a lot of questions to ask the Potions Master. Many of the answers the older wizard gave were way over his head, but Harry just continued to listen as Snape began to get more and more absorbed in explaining some of the finer points to potion making. Every so often, Harry would interject with another question or, if he was feeling brave, a cheeky comment or two. All in all, it was pretty much a one sided conversation, but that was okay.

Harry had noticed that the haunted look had left Snape's eyes.

So they continued to talk.

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Severus stormed through the hallways of Hogwart's dungeons, sending small children—and a few of the older ones—scurrying to get out of the way. He had just finished teaching the seventh year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. He never did enjoy those two houses. Not for any real reason in particular; mostly because they were not his own Slytherins and he did not get to torment them quite the same as the Gryffindors. The Ravenclaws simply were know-it-alls and the Hufflepuffs were too easy to make cry.

The Potion professor continued his fast walk, letting his robes billow around him. He had discovered this trick his first year of teaching. The faster that he walked, the more his robes would flow out, and the faster the kids would run away.

It had been a source of amusement to the young wizard who did not want to teach.

It was still amusing to the older wizard who still did not want to teach.

Severus found himself doing it more and more these days, if only because he could.

He was quite relieved that today was a Monday. Usually, this thought process would be cause for alarm, since there seems to exist an unwritten rule in this universe that if one works they are immediately required to hate Mondays and everything associated with them.

That was not the case with Severus.

Mondays, while he did have to teach, were usually the most relaxing of his evenings. He did not usually have any sort of meetings and had no training session either.

It was his one evening off.

He had a routine that he always followed for Mondays.

After classes, he would quickly return to his rooms and would lock himself away.

He would take dinner in his rooms

Drink from his stock of scotch.

And brew potions to his heart's content.

His rooms were only a few hallways away from his teaching classroom and soon he was in the comfort of his sitting room following his schedule the letter.

Dumbledore had started to ask more questions about the Death Eater meetings. Severus had a pretty good idea that the headmaster was starting to suspect that something was wrong, but he did not know exactly what.

When the man had first began to ask, Severus had become angry, believing that what he had told Potter just a little over a week ago had been blabbed.

The anger did not last long though.

Only a second.

Severus realized almost as soon as he had that thought that it was not possible.

He didn't know why, but he simply knew that Potter had not gone and told Albus about what was said after their boxing match.

Dumbledore was simply curious. Annoying, but simply curious. The man had been hounding him to come to tea. Severus had, at first, refused as politely as he was physically possible, but now he was very close to telling the elderly man just where he could shove his tea cozy.

The man would be intent on getting Severus to tell him what was going on, whether Severus wanted him to or not.

Severus just did not want to talk about it.

There was nothing to talk about.

He was just about to pour his first glass of scotch for the evening when an alarm went off in his rooms. A high-pitched ringing sound that could easily drive one to insanity if left on long enough.

Severus had long ago set up a system of ward alarms that would alert him to any possible threats or violations. It had taken him a while to remember what all of them meant, but after many years, he only had to hear the noise for a second to know which alarm went off and the significance of it.

This particular alarm sounded when his home at Spinner's End was being tampered with.

It happened every once in a while during the school year. While he was not living there he would simply ward and lock down the house and leave it at that. He also employed the use of cloaking spells, but since those fade over time, it was inevitable that soon the empty little house would be discovered by the local children and that they would attempt to tamper with it. Usually Severus was very good at checking in on his place of residence, but with all that had been happening recently…

Severus growled at the continual ringing. He had already had to deal with enough children today. He did not want to deal with any more. Especially if said children were trying to vandalize his house.

'That is it. I am going to scare those brats so hard it will leave a complex!' Severus thought viciously as he slammed his drink glass down on one of the living room's side tables.

He walked over to the fireplace and threw a large pinch of floo power into the flame.

With a shout of his address he was off in that swirl of green flames and soot. His mind working on his plan of attack to ensure that the hooligans would never return. The trip was short enough and soon he landed solidly on the ground of his home's fireplace.

Something…

…was very, very wrong.

There was not supposed to be a candle lit.

Music should most certainly not be playing.

And Bellatrix Lestrange should not be sitting in his favorite wingback chair.

The deranged woman was sitting as though she were the hostess waiting to entertain. Severus noticed that she had a glass of wine in her hand, no doubt from his own collection. She bore a manner and grace that spoke of her upbringing in a pure blood family, if not for the fact that her hair looked as though she had never brushed it and her face held a glint to it that spoke of every single day that the woman spent in Azkaban.

"Severus," the deranged woman began. She smiled as her eyes widened. "You are just in time for the party!"

Severus knew that the witch's presence would not bode well for him. His arm slowly moved to his side to make sure that his wand was there. "I do not tolerate trespassing, Lestrange. I suggest that you leave immediately."

Bellatrix's lips stuck out in a fake pout. "Aww, Sevvie, is that any way to talk to a friend?"

"You and I are not friends."

"Yes, and isn't that just wonderful."

"If you are only here to chit-chat, then I suggest you get out!" Severus reached for his wand.

Before he could get to it properly, though, a figure stepped out of the shadows and pointed his wand at him.

Rudolphus. Bellatrix's husband.

"I don't think so, Potion Man. Put your arm down," the other man growled.

'Shit,' Severus thought as he followed the directive and brought his arm back to his side.

Another figure came out from the dark kitchen area.

Rudolphus's brother, Rabastan.

'Triple shit.' Severus really did not like where this was leading.

One psychotic witch and two blood-thirsty Death Eaters did not equal a fair fight for Severus. Especially since, at the moment, he could not reach his wand. They had not attacked yet, which meant that there was a chance that they were simply here to talk. To blackmail.

"What are you after?" Severus finally asked. His dark eyes darted back and forth amongst the three intruders.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Bellatrix chided. She brought out her wand and twirled it around. "And we were having such fun. Weren't we having fun, boys? Oh, well, I guess we shall have to find something else to entertain us, won't we?"

"I am losing my patience! State why you are here or get out! Actually, don't bother. Just get out!"

Rabastan chuckled darkly. "For a man that has two wands trained on him, you sure got a big mouth. Must go with that big nose of yers."

'Oh yes, very mature.'

"Now, now. He asssked a very sssimple quessstion. Perhapsss I can ansssswer that for you, Sssseverussss."

Severus could have sworn his heart stopped.

'No!' Severus's mind screamed, 'I thought I would have more time!'

His face did not break from his stone expression. He would not let these people see that they were getting to him.

He watched expressionlessly as Lord Voldemort walked out from the kitchen as well. For a brief second, Severus wondered who else was in his kitchen. The Easter Bunny? He quickly shoved that thought away. There was a chance that he was about to die in the next few minutes. He would not have his last thoughts be about a rabbit.

He met the red eyes and stood his ground.

"Oh, Ssseverusss, I have heard sssome very troubling thingsss," Voldemort said as he walked further into the room until he stood right in front of Severus.

Severus simply raised his eyebrow. "Indeed? I can assure you, my lord, that they are merely lies told by an imbecile."

He heard Bellatrix hiss off to his right. He might as well get his jabs in while he could.

Voldemort shook his head. "You were the perfect ssspy, Ssseverus, but asss of recently, you have become lesssss and lesssss valuable. Then, I hear that there isss a ssspy for the Order in my rankssssss and your name issss mentioned more than oncsssse. Did you really think you could keep thisss from me?"

"I can assure you, my lord, that I have been nothing but—"

"LIAR!" the Dark Lord spat. His eyes had begun to bug out and his lips curled back to reveal his pointy teeth.

Severus closed his mouth while his mind tried to come up with a plan of action.

A way to escape.

"I trusssted you, Sssseverussss."

"You have no—"

"Sssssilence!!! You want proof, Ssseverusss? Rodolphussss! Rabassstan!"

Rudolphus flicked his wand, sending out a stream of rope that quickly bound itself around Severus, making it incapable for him to move. The bound wizard struggled against the rope and felt himself begin to sway, as though he were about to fall, but Rabastan came up beside him and jerked on the ropes, hard, setting Severus back upright.

Voldemort smirked and turned towards Bellatrix who was still sitting in the chair smiling, obviously entertained.

"If you would be sssso kind, my dear Bella?"

"Certainly, my lord."

The witch stood and walked slowly over to Severus. At this point, Severus did not even attempt to hide the sneer from his face.

"Oh, now, now, Sevvie. Wouldn't want that pretty face to stay like that, would you?"

She reached into a small pouch and produced a small bottle of clear liquid.

Veritaserum.

'I am going to die tonight.'

Severus fought yet again. He would not simply stand here tied and do nothing. He jerked and thrashed about his bindings. Rabastan grabbed onto him and jerked him back up, then punched him hard in the stomach, sending Severus down to his knees. Another set of large hands, no doubt from Rudolphus, came up behind him and held his head still. He continued to struggle, but the two behemoths were easily able to overpower him and hold him while Bellatrix stepped up and uncorked the bottle. Severus's first instinct was to clench his jaw shut tightly. Rabastan wrenched his jaw open roughly and kept it open as the vial was turned upside down and the liquid flowed freely into his mouth. The hands that were holding his mouth opened then moved to cover his mouth and nose, forcing Severus to swallow.

'This seems to be overdramatic. All I need is two drops. I made this potion, I should know.'

Severus was really starting to question himself. Does everyone think such strange things when they are about to die?

The group waited in silence a few moments before the Dark Lord spoke.

"What isssss your name?"

Severus felt like saying Lula-belle. "Severus Tobias Snape."

"Are you a sssspy?"

Severus tried to fight the potion. "Yes."

"Are you a sssspy for Dumbledore'ssss Order?" Voldemort hissed. His red eyes narrowed as he looked down at the man who had once been his most trusted Death Eater.

'Damn, damn, damn, damn!'

He clenched his jaw, but could not keep the answer from escaping through his teeth.

"Yes."

Severus heard Bellatrix cackle.

He really, really hated that witch.

Voldemort was quiet for the longest time, simply continuing to stare at Severus.

"How long have you been a ssspy for Dumbledore?"

To hell with it, he was going to die anyway.

Severus met the red gaze defiantly, "Almost as soon as you sent me to that school to spy for you, you snake faced—"

He did not get to finish his insult. A thin, boney, hand holding a wand appeared and with a flick, Severus felt the _Cruciatus_ curse wrack his body in an unbearable pain. He fought to remain at least upright on his knees, not wanting to further degrade himself by withering on the floor, but the longer the curse held, the harder that was as he began to feel his body curl in on itself, the pain subsided.

Severus took a deep, gasping breath and straightened himself back up to look at the dark leader. Voldemort was sneering down on him as if he was a foul bug or something vial that was accidentally stepped in. Severus knew the look. He had given it many times before.

The Potions Master offered up a sneer of his own.

And spit blood onto Voldemort's shoe.

That earned him another round of _Crucio_.

This time was even more painful than the last and by the end, Severus could not help but let out a scream. It was muffled by clenched teeth. He faintly heard more laughing. Not only from the hag, but from the other little lap dogs as well.

This time, when the curse ended, Severus kept bowed over and lost the contents of his stomach upon his hard wood floors.

"Oh, poor little Sevvie," Bellatrix said loudly and happily, "I think he's sick."

"He'll be a lot more than that in a minute," Rudolphus said quietly, but with an air of humor as well.

"Enough," Voldemort silenced his followers.

A cold hand came up under Severus's chin and forced his head up.

"I trussssted you. You have failed me like no one elsssse hasss. Avada Kadavra is too good for you, Ssssseverusss. You are not even worthy of my time or magical energy. I thought it might be appropriate to reward thosssse who have actually been faithful to me. Enjoy your death, Sssseverusss. It will take a while."

A wind that seemed to originate from Voldemort himself swirled through the house with the force of a hurricane, knocking several things off the shelves and breaking many of the windows. Blue flames erupted at the feet of the dark leader and consumed him, marking the man's exit from the small home on Spinner's End.

Severus slowly moved his head up and looked at his three captors. This was always Voldemort's way of dealing with those he felt deserved the highest punishment. He would return and finish the job, no doubt, but he would first make sure that they suffered.

Severus should be honored.

Voldemort thought his crime so worthy enough to have left him alone with three of the most violent Death Eaters, probably with the instruction to torture him as much and as bloody as possible.

He did not feel that honored, though.

After the torture was done, the Dark Lord would return with the promise that his minions had tortured the offender so badly, that they would be begging for their death, thus taking away all dignity from the person and giving Voldemort the supreme satisfaction of being the one in complete and total control.

Severus felt the ropes that had been holding him slip away. He fought to stay upright and moved to retrieve his wand that was still in his pocket.

Or it was.

"Looking for something, traitor?" Rabastan said nastily as he twirled a very familiar wand in his other hand.

Bellatrix leaned down until her face was millimeters away from Severus's own. The woman's breath was rancid, a fact that she seemed to be aware of since she breathed heavy into the dark man's face.

"Now, dear little Sevvie, it's time to have our fun!"

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Harry was back in the blue space again. Every since he first discovered this place, it had been easier and easier to get back there.

He had decide to meditate that evening since he did not have any training, and Hermione and Ron did, thus leaving the ebony haired teen with some alone time and no interruptions.

The past few weeks had been very trying. The ultimatum still hung in the air and was very fresh in everyone's minds. Though they did not get the paper at Grimmauld, he would ask the other adults who worked at the Ministry what was going on. They were always reluctant, but would eventually tell Harry the truth. The few attacks that had happened since Christmas had convinced the wizarding public even further that Harry should turn himself in and were angered that he had failed them all by continuing to do so.

They were calling him a coward.

Harry finally stopped asking.

Then there was that whole thing with Snape. Their last fight still played through his mind. He wondered what the older man's "issues" with Voldemort really were. He had asked in the few training sessions and boxing match since, but had been ignored. Something was wrong and no matter how hard Harry wracked his brain for an answer, all he got was a headache.

He really needed to clear his head.

That's when he remembered the blue place.

He had found a spot in the corner of the drawing room and had immediately went into his routine of envisioning himself flying, then slowly moving into that wonderful blue space again. This place was so quiet.

There wasn't a war here.

No noise.

He wasn't supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world.

It was just blue.

A blue that seemed to be liquid and air and solid all at the same time, but was none of those things all at once, and Harry simply wanted to stay there forever.

As he continued to move and sway within the enigma, the blue gave way and began to change again. Harry felt a tinge of apprehension to leave the blue space. But it seemed he had little say in the matter as the blue began to fade and gave way to a new color. Actually, a lack of color.

White.

All white.

The color wasn't the only thing different about this place.

This place was not comforting anymore.

The opposite, actually.

It felt like electricity.

Shocks going all along his body; up his spine and even down to his toes.

'What is this place?' Harry thought as he looked out at the white.

He wanted to stay here and figure out this new mystery, but at the same time, he worried that the bolts of energy, that seemed to be becoming more and more powerful and painful, were a sign that this place was not to be tampered with.

He wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

Harry had to know.

What lay beyond the white?

"Harry!"

Harry's green eyes snapped open quickly from the loud, startling sound and his body reflexively jerked back, hitting his head against the bookcase behind him.

Whack!

"Ron! You scared him!"

Whack!

"Ow! Hermione, what'd you do that for?!"

Harry's hand went to the back of his head to try and sooth the now tender area. He looked up and noticed Ron was mirroring the action while Hermione was looking quite irritated at her boyfriend.

"I was only seeing what he was up to!" Ron said indignantly as he glared back at his girlfriend. "Man, why do you have to hit so hard?"

"You are so tactless and thickheaded sometimes—"

"Hermione, it's fine," Harry said as he got up from his spot on the floor. Once again, his joints and muscles ached and he wondered just how long he had been sitting. He dusted off his jeans and tugged up his sweater sleeves to his elbows. It was one of his first Weasley sweaters and he noticed that it was fraying around the edges. Maybe Snape was right about his clothes. "It was probably best that I didn't stay there that long, anyway."

Hermione's brow knit with confusion. "Stay where, Harry?"

"The white place," Harry replied as he walked past his two friends to make his way to the couch. His body felt tired, and he could still feel a tingle from where the electricity had been racing through him.

He was almost to his destination when one such strong current thrashed through his body from his toes up to his head, sending him down to the floor on his knees.

"Harry!"

The teen felt two pairs of hands trying to help him off the floor, but he was not focusing on that. He was focusing of the multitude of images going on in his mind. Little snippets, like cuts from a movie, flashing in and out of focus and then fading into another one.

Bellatrix.

Rudolphus.

Rabastan.

Blood.

Snape.

Searing pain.

Blood.

Snape was bleeding.

Snape was…

Harry snapped back to reality and looked up into Ron's concerned blue eyes.

"Harry, mate, are you alright?"

Harry shook his head violently and stumbled out of their grasp. "Snape is in trouble!"

"What?" Hermione said in alarm. "Harry what do you mean?"

"Snape! Snape is being attacked! He is in trouble! We have to go!" Harry was stumbling out of the drawing room. His body still felt as though he had touched a live wire, but he had to move.

Now.

"Harry! Harry, wait! How do you know?" Hermione called as the two friends followed their smaller companion.

"I know! I just know!" Harry thought frantically what to do. He was still getting flashes of Snape being hexed and cut and not fighting back.

He quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out the messaging coin. He gave a startled yelp when as soon as he touched it, it began to heat up to the point of burning his skin.

"Is Kingsley still here?" Harry asked Ron desperately. He didn't know if what he was saying had already happened, was happening now, or was going to happen. All he knew was that the visions were getting worse.

"I believe I can answer that question," Shacklebolt said as he came from the back of the house with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Madame Pomfrey. "What is going on?"

"Snape is being attacked!"

Harry heard two pops from behind him. He looked to see Tonks and Remus.

"What's the emergency?" the lycanthrope asked as soon as they landed.

"Snape. He is being attacked by Bellatrix, Rudophus and Rabastan."

"Lestrange? Harry, how do you know this?"

Harry was not impressed.

They needed to be moving. Doing something. "I see it! I just…I see it."

Harry had another image flash through his head. A small house on a lone street. An unassuming living room with the three murders standing inside, laughing.

"Spinner's End! He is at Spinner's End." Harry said as he marched over to the apparation point.

"Harry, wait! You've never been there."

Harry didn't wait though. He turned on the spot and was gone in a flash.

He appeared outside of the small house he had seen in his vision. A moment later, more pops sounded around him as the rest of the group joined up.

"Harry! You could have spliced yourself!"

"Later, Hermione." Harry walked up to the house and felt the wards begin to push him back.

His mind saw Snape falling to the floor. His robes soaked with a thick liquid. Harry raised his hand up and did a swiping motion in the air in pure frustration.

The wards around the house flickered and then fell away.

"You must be pretty sure about this," Kingsley said as he came up and past Harry on his way to the front door.

Harry quickly caught up and came up to the front door of the house. There appeared to be no light on and the house looked abandoned.

Harry knew though.

It all happened in fast forward. Kingsley blasted out the door and instantly, light came through that had been hidden before. The group rushed in to see the three Lestranges standing over the hexed and bleeding body of Severus Snape. The house was in shamble, showing that quite a struggle had taken place.

The Death Eaters called out in surprise and began to throw hexes and curses at the Order members, but the element of surprise and the fact that they were outnumbered was proving to be too much for the deadly family group. Hermione, Ron, and their father had ducked behind the stairwell and were exchanging hexes with Bellatrix. Tonks and Remus were beside Harry and Kingsley in the main part of the seating area. Harry threw out several hexes, using one of the chairs and a sideboard for cover. He hit Rabastan with a cutting curse that incapacitated the man's right arm. Rudolphus yelled out something and Harry turned to see a hex flying straight towards him. He braced for the impact, but the hex ricocheted off of some unknown barrier and hit the wall behind him. The teen wondered who had cast a shield charm on him.

He began his attacks towards the other male Death Eater.

"Harry! Get Snape out of here!" Kingsley called as he dodged a hex from Bellatrix. She, her husband and brother-in-law had fallen back to the kitchen area, but had yet to give up. The house was quickly becoming destroyed from all the hexes and curses flying about.

Harry was not about to stop fighting. "But—"

"The longer he stays here, the worse it will be. He needs Pomfrey!"

'Damn.'

Harry looked over at Snape who was still lying bloody on the floor. He couldn't tell if the man was breathing.

Without thinking about the fact that there was a miniature war going on in the house, Harry rushed out from his spot and made his way over to the fallen Potions Master. Hexes and curses came near him, but they bounced of the shield. He would have to thank whoever was responsible for that later.

He made his strides quick, and soon he was bending down beside his boxing partner's body. He put his fingers to the man's neck, but could not feel a pulse.

Grabbing the man's arm as tight as he could, Harry thought about Grimmauld Place and felt the familiar vacuum sensation that only disapparating caused. He tightened his hand around Snape's arm to reassure himself that the man was still there. The world became solid again, and instead of the sitting room at Spinner's End, they were back at Grimmauld.

Harry looked down at the Potions Master once more. In the better light, he could see all of the many cuts, burns and bruises that covered the man's face. He really did not look like he was breathing.

"Stand aside, Mr. Potter!" Madame Pomfrey said in full-business mode. She and Mrs. Weasley levitated the injured professor and began to take him up the stairs and to one of the spare bedrooms.

Harry followed closely behind. He noticed that there was a trail of blood drops following Snape as he floated through the house.

When they made it to the room, Mrs. Weasley took Snape to lay on the bed while Pomfrey turned to Harry. "I will need you to wait out here."

Oh, uh-uh.

No way.

"What? No! But—"

The Medi-witch held up a hand, "I understand that you are worried, but right now I need to be able to concentrate. Wait. Out. Side."

Harry glared, but allowed the door to be shut on the healer, her red-headed assistant, and their patient. As soon as he heard the click of the lock, Harry turned and leaned against the wall. She had said to wait outside, so that's what he would do.

He stayed standing for only a little while though. The quiet of the house seemed to settle in on him and all at once he realized how tired he was. Still leaning against the wall, he slid slowly down until he was sitting, curled up next to the doorway. He let his head rest in his hands, but he didn't fall asleep. He couldn't fall asleep.

Sometime later, Harry didn't know how much, a noise came that startled him into moving his head, thinking it was Madame Pomfrey. Instead, it was Hermione and Ron climbing the stairway.

"Harry?" Hermione said quietly when they came closer. "Is everything okay? How is Snape?"

"I dunno. Madame Pomfrey is looking at him right now."

"What happened tonight, mate?" Ron asked as he sat down next to the green-eyed teen.

"I think it can be safe to say that the man was attacked, Ron."

"No, you prat, I meant with you."

Harry looked over at the red head with a questioning look, but just shook his head. "What happened after I left? Did you guys get those monsters?"

"No," Hermione answered. She, too, joined the boys on the floor. "They continued to fight, but finally they apparated away—"

"Bloody cowards," Ron interjected.

Hermione only looked a little irritated at being interrupted. "Yes, well, as I was saying, I think that Kingsley ended up hexing Rudolphus pretty good and you had already hit Rabastan pretty hard before you left. I don't know if Bellatrix was injured—"

"I sure hope so!"

"Ron!"

"Sorry."

"Listen, Harry," the young witch continued when she was sure her boyfriend would not interrupt again, "We need to talk about what happened tonight."

Harry's brow rose up slightly. "What do we have to talk about?"

"Well—"

The door to the makeshift hospital room opened.

Harry immediately stood up, followed by his two friends, as the Medi-witch stepped outside, followed by Mrs. Weasley.

"I have done all I can do. I have healed all the abrasions and broken bones that I could and patched up what I couldn't. He has lost a lot of blood and sustained a lot of internal damage. Not only that, but there are definite signs that he was under the _Cruciatus _curse for an extended period of time. It will be touch and go for the next several days. There is a very good chance he will not survive the night."

Madame Pomfrey finished her speech in full professional Healer mode. After that though, her demeanor softened slightly. "He has a regiment of potions that he has to take."

"I'll make sure that he takes them," Harry said automatically. His mind was really only focusing on the last part of the Healer witch's first speech.

'There is a good chance he will not survive…'

Harry picked at the hem of his sweater without realizing it as he continued to look at Madame Pomfrey. "Can I see him?"

The grey haired witch gave him a questioning look, but her face softened even more after a moment's time. "Yes, you may. He is on a very heavy pain relieving potion and a potent sleeping draught. He will not wake for quite some time."

Harry heard the unspoken, 'If he wakes at all.'

"That's okay."

The teen walked past the Medi-witch into the dark room that now smelled just like the hospital wing at Hogwarts. The man lying in the bed did not look like the intimidating Potions Master who could strike fear into the hearts of students and hand the power to cut anyone down by his words alone. This man had a grey complexion, sunken in eyes, and bandages everywhere.

Harry didn't notice the Madame Pomfrey leaving along with Mrs. Weasley, who gently nudged both Ron and Hermione away, muttering something about getting the two a sandwich and a cup of tea. Ron, swayed by the promise of food, left without question, but Hermione still looked as though she wanted to stay and talk about something and lingered in the doorway. She watched as her friend of seven years sat down in the chair next to their once Potions professor. In the end, though, she shook her head and decided that talking could wait for another time. The young woman quietly left to join the other group.

Harry looked down at Snape as he pulled up a chair to sit right next to the bed. He sat there in silence for a little while, unsure of what exactly to do. He was usually the one who was in the hospital bed.

When Ron or Hermione had been injured in the past, he had held their hand and talked to them.

He didn't think Snape would appreciate Harry holding his hand.

So what could he do?

"Um…Hi," he whispered.

He mentally smacked himself upside the head.

He could practically hear Snape berating him for how inane he sounded.

He wished he could actually hear Snape berate him.

Harry sighed and continued to stare at his dueling instructor. His hands, once again, found their way to the frayed end of his sweater to worry it.

"Look," he said into the quiet, sterile smelling room, "I'll make a deal with you okay?"

He paused, even though he knew he would get no response from the man in the bed.

"Okay. Here is the deal: I won't give up…if you don't die. I…I still need a boxing partner. You would be missing out on so many more chances to beat the tar out of me. So…have we got a deal?"

The young man looked and saw the man's chest rise and fall very, very slowly underneath the thin blanket.

Harry leaned forward and folded his arms on the edge of the bed, using them as a pillow for his head. He closed his eyes.

"I won't give up if you don't die."

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Thanks ever so verily for reading Chapter 6!

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Teasers for next chapter:

You are in my personal space....

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Reviews are very much appreciated and loved!


	8. Patience and a Patient

**A/N: **Wow! I got sooo many awesome reviews for the last chapter. You guys are great! Thank you oh-so-much and thank you to everyone who added this story to their alerts and favorites list.

Beta-ed by the one, the only **Invader Shawn**.

I may not be able to post as regularly as I usually do. I just moved and I am trying to get settled. No worries! I will post every week, it just may not be every Tuesday. Keep your eyes out!

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Chapter 7: Patience and Patients

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_We need to study this. – Hermione Granger_

Hermione was not a patient woman.

Well, there should be some clarification to that statement, as there is need for clarification of most statements in the world, however that is getting off into the philosophical, and there is a story to tell here.

Be that as it may, Hermione could be a patient woman, but not if she had something that needed to be said, information that needed to be found, or a mystery to be solved.

So with that explanation, let it be known that a vast majority of the time, Hermione Granger was not a patient woman.

She had gone down to the kitchen and had tea with Ron and Mrs. Weasley, thinking that soon after, she and Ron could come back up and talk with Harry. After all, how long could tea take? This didn't work out quite as planned. Ron seemed to have worked up quite the appetite from the fight and kept on making and eating sandwich after sandwich. Kingsley, Tonks, and Remus had stayed behind to hear Pomfrey's diagnosis of Snape and had stayed later than that to also take in a bite to eat and discuss their theories on the night.

"Isn't it obvious?" Remus said as he took a sip of tea. "Snape's role as a spy must have been discovered."

"Well, yes, but why wasn't You-Know-Who there? I would think he would be pretty angry about that," Tonks inquired from beside the werewolf.

"He is," Kingsley answered, "and he is probably even more angered by what we have done. You-Know-Who likes things bloody. The more he doesn't like you, the bloodier it gets. He may not have been there, but it is obvious that those three were under orders to torture the man; however, they were to keep him alive until their master returned."

Hermione listened to all of this. She even added her opinion when the occasion called for it, but really, she was counting down the minutes till everyone would retire or leave for the night. They were talking, but not about what was really the issue; not the one Hermione thought should be discussed, at least. It was driving her crazy. She was just about to voice her displeasure over the oversight when they were interrupted by the arrival of Dumbledore.

That led to the reiteration of the night's events and an even more agitated Hermione. She looked over at Ron, sure that he would also be upset at the delay of their talk with Harry. The redhead, though, was simply eating in oblivion. He wasn't even paying attention to the adults, either. Simply eating. Always eating.

When they were able to leave, she was so going to smack for this.

How could he not be curious? How could he not be going absolutely crazy wondering about what had happened with Harry tonight?

'Because he is Ron,' Hermione grumbled in her head as she finished off her tea.

Finally, the conversation took a turn that immediately made Hermione's ears perk up. After Kingsley had given his report, Dumbledore had asked first about the condition of his Potions professor—getting the full medical report from Madame Pomfrey—and then on Harry.

"From what you have told me," the elderly headmaster began, "our Harry displayed some rather unusual abilities tonight."

Ron seemed to have finally tuned in, because he thickly swallowed his bit of sandwich and spoke up, "You can say that again!"

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said with a smile and a nod of the head. Hermione noticed that the man's eyes were twinkling. A characteristic that she had heard from Harry meant that the old man found something funny and knew something everyone else didn't know. The young witch had a very good feeling that the twinkle was not just from Ron's inane statement.

At least she hoped.

"Can you explain what has gone on with Harry, sir?" she turned and asked the silver bearded man. She moved up to the edge of her seat in anticipation.

Dumbledore knew.

Or at least he had an educated guess.

Something.

Anything.

The man turned his blue eyes to her, still twinkling brightly. "My dear, I am afraid I haven't the slightest idea what exactly is going on with Harry."

Hermione felt herself deflate just a little.

No.

He knows.

What is that twinkle for?

"Where is Harry now?" Dumbledore inquired, standing. Apparently, the man could not stay for too long.

"He is up there with Snape, sir," Remus replied as he, too, stood up from the table.

Hermione noticed that, if it was possible, the blue eyes began to twinkle more.

Great, now there was another mystery that she needed to figure out.

Lucky enough, soon after that the spur of the moment meeting came to an end. Dumbledore had to return to Hogwarts to finish business there, and as if taking a cue from the older man, the rest of the group also went on their way.

'Finally!' Hermione thought triumphantly as she too made her way to leave the kitchen along with Remus and Tonks.

"Hermione, dearie, could you help me with the clean-up?" Mrs. Weasley's voice met her ears.

'This had got to be some sort of conspiracy.'

"Yes…of course, Mrs. Weasley."

"Ron! You, too."

"But Mum!"

Several minutes later, the three were finally done wiping down the kitchen for the night. Many months ago, Mrs. Weasley had thought it a good idea to teach Ron about Muggle and magical methods of housework. When this idea had first been presented, Hermione had championed the idea; now, however, she could have kicked herself right in the…well, you get the idea. The work had taken twice as long, because Ron had not been able to fully grasp the sweeping spell and had ended up causing more of a mess that cleaning one.

It was somewhat amusing to see Ron wrestle with a broom, though.

But only slightly.

Alright, extremely.

But she would fully appreciate the image and humor later.

Right now, there was information to be gotten.

And to get that information, they needed to talk to a certain green eyed wizard.

As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had apparated back to the Burrow, Hermione grabbed Ron's hand and dragged him to the stairs.

"Hermione! I'm attached to that, you know!"

"I am fully aware of that, Ron," Hermione said as she started to ascend the flight of steps to get to the second story landing.

Now, she could get some answers. Or, if she couldn't get the answers, then she could at least start the process of finding the information that the answers were in. This kind of problem solving was something she really hadn't gotten to do since Hogwarts.

Call it a hobby.

Some collect stamps.

Others study birds.

Hermione liked to obtain facts and figure out conundrums.

This was a doozie of a conundrum.

Still dragging her red headed boyfriend, she finally made it to the guest room where Snape had been tended to by Madame Pomfrey. The door was slightly cracked, but Hermione didn't hear any noise coming from the small room. She finally let go of Ron and pushed the old door open.

There was only a small candle lit on the nightstand beside the old bed. The light from the flame cast the room in a very soft, pale orange glow, the shadows dancing on the walls from the flickering light. The two teens looked towards the bed where the Potions Master was lying very still; the only movement was the very slight rise and fall of the man's chest. A quiet hum brought their attention to the other figure in the room.

Harry was still sitting in that chair beside Snape's bed, his body leaned forward with his folded arms cradling his head at the edge of the bed by the professor's right arm.

He was fast asleep.

Slowly and quietly, as though the already established peace of the room was dictating their actions, Ron and Hermione walked into the room and up to their sleeping friend.

Hermione reached forward to touch Harry's shoulder, but her hand was stopped by a larger, much more freckled hand. She looked up at Ron for an explanation, but the red head only gave a slight shake of his head.

"What is it, Ron?" She asked in a whisper.

The two froze as Harry hummed, yet again.

After a few moments of silence, Ron answered the question in the same quiet voice.

"Just let him sleep 'Mione."

Hermione stared up at his blue eyes.

This…could not be Ronald Weasley.

"But what about what happened tonight?"

Ron shrugged.

There was the Ron she knew and loved.

"What about it?"

"Don't you think that it was all just a little strange?"

Another hum was emitted from the slumbering, smaller teen.

"No," Ron finally replied a few seconds later.

Now Hermione was confused. "You didn't?"

"Nope. I thought it was extremely strange, but we aren't going to find out tonight."

Ron turned to leave the room. He didn't get very far though, before the sleeve of his faded maroon pullover was grabbed by the bushy brown haired young woman. Hermione was wanted to know what was going on. It wasn't just the mystery or the learning of new information. It was Harry. Something was going on with him and it could be bad. Or it could be good. It could be an outside influence or it could be…

The point was she didn't know.

And if she didn't worry about Harry, then who would?

Okay, so Ron did too.

And Mrs. and Mr. Weasley.

And Remus.

And Dumbledore.

And, in his own snarky and roundabout way, so did Snape.

That was not the point.

Harry needed all of those people to worry about him. More than half of Harry's life had been spent with people who ignored him and never really cared. Hermione thought they were all justified in mothering the young wizard; though she would never tell Ron that he mothered his best friend sometimes. Ron always talked about "Man Points," and the young witch worried that if she mentioned anything of the red headed wizard having a maternal instinct to his green eyed friend, Ron would most likely go off about losing so many man points and then attempt to do something farfetched in order to gain said points back, ultimately resulting in some disaster.

The last time he had done this, he had tried to chop down a tree.

Time before that, he went around trying to see what furniture he could lift one handed.

"Ron, this could be serious. Harry was doing some powerful magic tonight. Plus, he kept talking about a 'white place.' What if something is wrong?"

Ron looked first at Hermione's light brown eyes, then over to his sleeping best friend. The teen's glasses were pushed up and into his face from his arms. Harry mumbled something unintelligible and then snuggled further into his arms, making his glasses bend at an almost impossible angle. The red head walked over and carefully extricated the glasses from the smaller teen's face, showing that the frames had left an imprint on Harry's cheek and eye, and placed them on the nightstand alongside what seemed like an unusually high number of potions for Snape to drink. He turned back to his girlfriend.

"Harry seems fine. The only thing that seems wrong is that he seems to want to hang around with this slimy git." He waved his arm behind him in the direction of the Potions professor.

"If anything, we shouldn't let him sleep like that. It will hurt his back!"

Harry mumbled and hummed yet again. This time, he lifted his head slightly and the two friends thought for sure that they had been caught. Instead, the green eyes remained closed and he simply turned his head to face the opposite side, away from his two friends.

Ron gave a small smile. "He is a big boy, 'Mione. He can deal with a crick in the morning."

Hermione looked back at the sleeping wizard and let out a small sigh.

"You're right."

"Look, I know that—wait, what?"

"I said, 'you're right.' You are a good friend, Ron Weasley."

Ron stuck out his chest in pride. "I know that. Please say it one more time."

"What? That you are a good friend?"

"No, the part where I was right. Oh, and I want to saver it, so say it slow."

Hermione reached out and punched Ron in the arm as hard as she could without making too much noise to wake Harry. "You know, every once in a while, you manage to act mature."

Ron just smiled and shrugged as he rubbed his arm. "I know. Scary, isn't it? Luckily, I still manage to keep acting without thinking most of the time, thus keeping the world in balance."

"Oh, thank heavens for that!" Hermione muttered dryly.

Harry shifted again in his seat.

"C'mon," Ron said once more. He brought his hand up to Hermione's back and began to walk to the door. "We are gonna wake him up if we keep talking here. Don't worry; tomorrow we can pester him all we want with questions."

"Wait," Hermione said as she turned and walked back towards the other teen.

"'Mione!" Ron whispered in exasperation. He loved that witch, but sometimes she got a little single-minded when it came to getting information. At least she hadn't said anything about reading yet. Thank the stars for little miracles.

Hermione simply waved her hand in the direction of Ron, silencing him. She looked around the room quickly, finally spotting what she was looking for. She reached over to the foot of the bed where an extra blanket lay folded up. The young woman took the quilt and unfolded it, then draped the cover over Harry's shoulders.

Her mission accomplished, she turned back to Ron, who had a smile on his face.

"You mother him," he said fondly as she approached him. Their hands joined up and fingers laced together.

Hermione just smiled as they left the small, dim room, pulling the door partly closed behind them. She wouldn't say that Harry needed all the people watching over him he could get. Nor would she tell Ron that he had just been guilty of mothering their young friend as well. She could wait to say those things, if she ever did. Just like she would wait to ask Harry her questions till tomorrow.

Ron had been right.

Now was not the time.

And Hermione figured she could be patient until then.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry awoke the next morning feeling two things.

Confused.

And very, very sore.

He leaned back from where his head had rested until his back came into contact with the back of the chair.

'Why was I sleeping in a chair?' he thought as he wiped the small amount of drool from the corner of his mouth.

Harry looked around the out-of-focus room. He realized that his didn't have his glasses and instantly began to hunt for the elusive pair of specks. He hated to be without his glasses. Finally, he found them and placed them back on his nose—he noticed that they were slightly bent—and gazed around the room. It was one of the spaces that was not used very often, mostly when some of the order members stayed over after a meeting or when more of the Weasley clan came to visit. Because of that, the room seemed quite lifeless. He, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley had slowly been charming the other rooms to add just a little more color to the place, but this room had yet to be worked on and therefore had retained all the original dark and ominous color scheme that the rest of the house had once possessed. The only true color in the room was the bed, which had a dark green covering on it.

That's when Harry's eyes focused on the tall man lying in the bed in front of him just a few centimeters away with long, black hair, a slightly larger than normal nose, and a bandage covering his entire left arm.

Snape.

The events of last night came crashing back to him as consciousness finally came completely to Harry's mind. He straightened his back a little more, hearing it pop from the weird sleeping position, and felt something fall off his shoulders. Looking down, he saw the quilt bunching up around his waist.

'How did that get there?' Harry idly wondered as he picked a little at a loose string, 'did someone come in without me realizing it? They must have been awfully quiet…either that or a blanket fairy…'

Harry blinked.

Blanket fairy?

He shook his head to clear the thoughts out. While there were still things in the wizarding world that surprised the muggle-raised boy, but he really did not believe that there was such a thing as a blanket fairy.

At least he hoped not.

Was there?

Would it be strange to ask Hermione or Ron if there were blanket fairies?

"Why am I still thinking about this?" Harry asked no one in particular in the quiet room.

Or maybe he was asking someone.

It's just that the person wasn't going to answer back.

Harry's green eyes moved over and looked at the Snape. The man hadn't moved a millimeter and his breathing still shallow. In fact, the only change was now each breath was sharper, more staccato; as though maybe each inhale seemed to pain the potion master.

Actually, scratch the maybe.

Throw maybe right out of the sentence.

Whoop, there is goes.

There was no maybe about it, Harry realized. The man was in pain.

The teen quickly looked over to the nightstand where all the different potions sat along with the instructions for dosing from Madame Pomfrey.

He picked up the necessary pain relieving potion as well as a potion for blood replenishment and an overall healing draught. At first, the teen was quite worried when all the Healer had written down was the clinical names of the potions. Harry looked at the menagerie of vials of all different shades and hues.

'He survived being tortured by the Lestranges and I'm going to be the one to kill him with a wrong potion.'

Harry glanced back at the note and let out a single laugh of relief. Madame Pomfrey must have known something about who was going to be looking after Snape, because in the small post script at the bottom she had written out a color coding for all the potions. He couldn't say which was the pain relieving potion or the blood replenished without having to run and find his potions books—wherever those things were—but he could definitely tell which one was the light yellow and the deep purple.

The green eyed teen looked down at the unconscious Potions Master.

"See? This is why you have to get better," he said as he waved the note. "Someone has to tell me how idiotic I am for needing a color code for potions."

Well, now that he had the correct potions, there was the issue of how to get the man to actually take them. He glanced at the note he had already read all the way through, in hopes that miraculously it would now tell him how to administer potions to a comatose man.

No such luck.

"Crud."

Harry wracked his brain to try and think of something, and finally, he remembered Hermione mentioning something long ago about Madame Pomfrey having to massage his throat in order to get him to swallow potions during some of his more illustrious stays at the hospital.

Okay. So all he had to do was massage the man's throat and that would be that.

Easy.

Harry carefully stood up with the three potions in his hands and took a tiny step closer to the man in the bed. He leaned over slightly, his left hand coming up and into the dark hair that rested on the pillow to lift the Potions Master's head up slightly.

'Hm. His hair is kinda oily…but it feels kinda nice, too…real nice.'

Harry paused at that thought, but resumed his mission of giving Snape his morning potions.

"I think…" he said to the unconscious man as he brought the first vial up to the thin, slightly chapped lips and tipped it upward, watching the liquid empty from the tube and into Snapes mouth. "I think I may be a little weird."

When the vial was completely drained he quickly, but carefully, set the vial aside and then brought this now free right hand back to the man's throat to massage it with a slight pressure, praying that this worked. The man's stubble poked a his skin, leaving his hand feeling a bit tingly; like handling the sandpaper Aunt Petunia always made him use when he did handy work around the house.

He continued to rub his hand in a circular motion across the rough neck; he was starting to think that this wasn't going to work and he was doing more harm than good. Harry was just about to stop and reach for his wand when he felt the muscles underneath his fingers start to work on their own.

Snape swallowed the potion.

Harry let out a breath that he didn't know he had been holding.

There.

This was a piece of cake.

Harry quickly administered the other two potions just like the first, noting that with each one, Snape swallowed it faster, with less coaxing from the teen.

It wasn't a lot, but it was a start.

Finished with his task, Harry carefully set the man's head back of the pillow and took a step back again from the bed. It was done. Technically, he did not have to stay, and in fact, he probably had other things that he needed to be doing with his time, but regardless of all of that, he was still reluctant to leave.

"What do I really have to do anyway?" he asked the man lying in the bed.

Besides, he had always found it comforting to know that a friend had stayed by his side when he was in the infirmary.

'Is that what we are?' Harry thought as he picked up the quilt from his chair and began to refold it. 'We've hated each other ever since I was eleven. Can it even be possible that we're friends now? He's still an over-critical git who finds way too much enjoyment in mocking me…but it has gotten better since we started our boxing matches.'

He placed the folded blanket at the foot of the bed and returned to his chair next to the bed. He pushed up the sleeves of his two day old, blue sweater and propped an elbow up on one of his knees, his head resting in one of his hands.

'We talk more too; not just fight. Even when we fight now, it isn't quite the same…'

Harry sighed and leaned back away from his hand to rest his weight fully on the back of the hard, wooden chair.

Harry wondered just how long the Potions Master was going to stay. If he survived, it could be weeks. If he didn't survive….

Snape may have made it through the night—a fact that gave Harry an unexpected rush of happiness —but he still looked as though death was just a breath away. Harry studied the man's profile for a moment or two, making an imaginary outline down the forehead, over the nose, then the mouth and down the chin. Harry realized that he actually did want to be friends with this man. He wanted him to survive. He wanted to get to know him better.

"What do you say? Are we friends?"

Like all the questions before, Harry did not expect an answer.

He could certainly hear Snape's voice in his head, though. The irritated, dark drawl listing off all the other things he would rather be than a friend to Harry Potter.

Like a slug, or a beetle, or a troll, or any other unpleasant thing he could think of.

Harry tilted his head back to rest against the chair and closed his eyes. For some reason, the thought brought a little smile to his face.

"Harry?"

Harry opened his eyes and looked towards the door where the source of the noise came from. Standing in the doorway was Ron and Hermione. Hermione, who was always the earliest riser in the house next to Mrs. Weasley, looked all ready and waiting to start her say. Ron, on the other hand, looked like he had just been dragged out of bed and shoved in to the shower only a few minutes ago. His red hair was still wet and hanging limp on his head, and he still looked half asleep.

"Hey, guys." Harry didn't know why he was talking quietly to them. His next sentence was at a normal volume level. "What's up?"

Ron and Hermione walked into the room, and each found a chair to scoot up to sit next to Harry at the Potions Master's bedside.

"How is Professor Snape doing, Harry?" Hermione asked as they finally sat down.

Harry could tell that both of his friends were very anxious to tell him or ask him something, but did not want to bombard him right away. Hermione had that same look she had when she was itching to go to the library to look in a particular book she knew would have an answer and Ron kept chewing on the inside of his cheek like he was trying to keep his mouth shut with the action. The green eyed teen wondered what he had missed that caused his friends to look like this.

"Okay, I guess," Harry said with a shrug. He figured that, eventually, his friends would tell him what was bothering them. They looked too anxious to keep things quiet. "I just gave him some of his potions and he managed to swallow them."

"Why are you worried about Snape?" Ron blurted out.

'Ah,' Harry thought, 'so that was what was bothering Ron. Well, one down.'

"I dunno. He needs someone to look after him. I felt I needed to."

"But…it's Snape."

"He nearly died, Ron."

"I'm not saying he shouldn't be taken care of!" Ron said in distress, shaking his arms.

Hermione was shooting him one of her more potent death-glares and Ron began to flounder to backtrack. Harry just shook his head.

"How does your foot taste, Ron?" he said with a small, good natured smile. He knew Ron was not intending to be cruel with the statement. It was just another case where Ron's mouth spoke, and then his brain had to do damage control.

The red head's shoulders slumped. "Terrible."

"Look," Harry looked over at Snape, but continued to talk to Ron, "I know that he is not always the most pleasant man," at that point, Ron snorted rather loudly. Harry just continued as though he hadn't heard, "but he has saved my life more times than I care to count. He…he's my friend. Or at least, I want him to be."

Ron's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, "You want to be friends with Snape?"

"Yea…yea I do." It felt good to say that to someone.

"You're mental. You know that right?"

"Ron!"

"What? He is!"

"It's okay Hermione," Harry interrupted the two before a fight broke out. "I know it's crazy, but…"

Harry stopped. He really didn't know how to finish that sentence. Instead, he looked down and played with the hem of his sweater. He didn't even know if Snape wanted to be his friend and here he was talking like they were. Plus, how does he put into words why he wanted to be friends with the man? It wasn't just that he was in debt to the man for saving his life multiple times, but it was all sorts of other things. Luckily, he did not have to try to put those other things into words; Hermione came to his rescue.

"I'm glad."

Harry looked up at the brown haired witch. "Say what?"

"I said, 'I'm glad.' I will admit that Professor Snape is sometimes a little difficult, but he needs friends. Everyone does. I'm proud of you for trying to help him. I think you two will do each other good."

Harry smiled at his friend's words. He could always count on Hermione to make him feel better about a situation. He looked over into the blue eyes of Ron. He was his best mate, and while he still believed that he would still pursue a friendship with Snape, it would be nice to know that Ron would not hate him or stop talking to him like fourth year. The redhead had grown up a lot since then, but that time where he was alienated from his friends had left an impression on Harry, and he was still wary of the redhead's reaction to news.

Ron just sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I just don't like that you want to be friends with the guy who has treated you like dirt."

"He really isn't that bad…"

"And I'm a prima ballerina."

"You may look good in a tutu."

"Shut it, Harry," Ron said as he rolled his eyes. "Fine. You be friends with him. You seem to like to punish yourself, apparently. Just promise me that I don't have to spend that much time with him."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"That's not a promise."

"I know."

"I am going to have to spend time with him aren't I?" Ron asked dejectedly. He could tell when he was getting the raw end of a deal. This seemed pretty darn raw to him.

"Well…If he ever wakes up….he will probably have to stay here for quite a while to recover," Harry said. It explained some of Ron's question, but really it was more thinking out loud on the part of the green eyed teen.

"He did survive the night. Madame Pomfrey said that after last night, that would be the biggest hurdle," Hermione finally said. She had been hoping for a way to steer the conversation to a more productive line, but had yet to figure it out. Now was her chance.

Patience was going to pay off.

Harry knew that look.

'Well, now I get to see what was on Hermione's mind…'

"Alright, what are you thinking about?"

"What makes you think I am thinking of anything?" Hermione volleyed.

"You're looking at me like I'm in a test tube or something—"

"You are pretty tiny; bet you could fit in one…"

"Git."

"You think I'm awesome."

"Oh, yea, sure. Brilliant."

"A-HEM!"

The boys' attention was once again—and none too subtly—brought back to Hermione. The young witch had on her best scolding face and was tapping her foot against the hard wood floor in agitation. Harry turned in his seat to face her properly and Ron fidgeted a little and coughed to keep himself from laughing.

"Er—sorry."

"It's fine Harry. It's not all you." She looked over at her boyfriend.

"What?" Ron asked with a little too innocent look on his face."

"Uhg, never mind. Harry, I wanted to talk to you about last night."

Harry's brows furrowed in confusion as he pushed his fallen sweater sleeves up one more time. He was really going to stretch them out if he kept doing that.

"What about it?"

"Well," Hermione paused to choose her words, but in the end realized that with her boys, simple was sometimes best. "What happened?"

"Huh?"

Perhaps that was a little too simple.

'Have to find a middle ground,' the brown haired witch rationalized.

"Harry," she said as she leaned forward a little in her chair, "Last night, well, last night you were performing some very advanced magic. Wandlessly."

"I was?"

Hermione sighed and rubbed her face with both hands. That was usually a gesture reserved for Ron when he said something really brainless.

Uh-oh.

"Yes, Harry. You were. You were able to see Professor Snape's attack, took down the wards of his house, and blocked all of those spells without raising your wand."

"Wait, I blocked those spells? I thought you guys did that."

"Wasn't us, mate," Ron said as he leaned back in his chair. "Coulda been one of the adults, but I doubt it. It didn't look like a normal shield, ya know. Kinda looked different."

Harry was starting to get worried. "Different, how different? Different as in something new or different as in the different we usually run into that is never any good?"

Ron opened his mouth, but closed it again. "I'm not even sure what you said, but yea, it was different."

"Fantastic."

"Harry," the green eyed young man looked back at Hermione, "this all started with you talking about a 'white place.' What white place?"

Harry had to think a moment before he remembered meditating last night and what had happened. He tried to explain to his two best friends about the blue space and what that was like, then how it moved into the white place and the electricity that he had experienced there. What seemed so logical while he was meditating seemed to be much more difficult to put into words. By the end of his account, Ron looked like he did after one of Professor Binn's more enthralling lectures, only slightly confused, and Hermione was staring at him even more like he was some sort of experiment.

"And that is it?" She finally asked.

"Yep. After that, Ron brought me out of it, and then I started to have those weird visions."

"We need to study this," Hermione stated.

"Of course we do," Ron said with no small amount of aggravation. He knew what study meant. Study meant books.

"This is important, Ron! What if this white place is something dangerous?"

"Knowing my luck, it is," Harry said quietly with a small smile. The other two didn't hear him.

"Or Harry could just be a Seer," Ron countered. He turned to fully face his girlfriend. "Did you think about that?"

"There is no such thing as Divination, Ron. Besides, he was seeing the present. Not the future."

"You just want to make us read a bunch of nasty, old books."

"How dare you call books nasty?!"

This was going to get ugly.

Fast.

"Hey guys," Harry started. The arguing continued. "I think I am going to go shower. I probably smell. Can you two stay here and watch Snape to make sure he's okay?"

The redhead and the brunette continued to bicker.

"Right. I also may very well come back here wearing a bunny costume. You know, just for laughs."

They didn't even pause for that one.

"Wow, okay. You two just stay here, and after I get back, you can tell me who won, and then we can start doing research about the white place." He stood up and started to walk to the door, convinced that the movement would snap the two out of their argument.

No such luck.

He turned back from the door to try one more time.

"I've decided to run away and become a masked, caped super hero that flies around on a broom saving people. I shall be called, Wonder Wizard!"

Ron was now pointing out all the times Hermione had made them do research only for her to be the one to find the answer.

"We could just skip all of that and have you be the only one to look."

"If you think that you can just sit around and…"

'Lost cause,' Harry thought as he turned and walked down the hall to get to his room.

He had a pretty good feeling that the two would still be there by the time he got back; he just hoped that the two weren't making out like they sometimes did after they fought.

'How can anyone even think about kissing another person after just having a row with them?'

He really hoped that the Potions Master didn't wake up to that sight.

It would be funny.

Extremely funny.

Oh my gosh, I'm about to wet myself it's so funny.

But Harry hated to think what the image would do to Snape.

Or what Snape would do to his two best friends.

'At least he would be awake, though.'

At that thought, Harry hurried to shower and change, anxious to get back and make sure everything was alright.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Four days can go by in the blink of an eye.

Or it can drag on in what feels like an eternity.

Time is always conditional.

A case of mind over matter.

If you don't mind, it hardly ever matters.

Harry was finding that he did mind, though. It had been four days, and still there had yet to be any change to Snape's condition.

Madame Pomfrey had come by the second full day to check on Snape's progress. She had run all kinds of diagnostic spells, Hermione was right by her side for a practical demonstration, but in the end, the elderly witch had simply said that everything was the same as it had been. Snape was healing, however the progress seemed slow and there could very well be the chance that Snape stayed in the coma he was in for an indefinite amount of time. The professor had done well to survive this long, but there was still a ways to go before the Medi-witch deemed the man, "In-the-Clear."

Harry had spent his days pretty much at Potions Master's bedside. In the short time he had already fallen into a routine of giving Snape his regiment of different potions, reading the different books Hermione had found to try and ascertain any information about the mysterious white place, talking with the unconscious man when they were alone, then falling asleep in his chair.

He always woke up with the blanket over his shoulders in the morning.

He finally figured out who was the blanket fairy leaving it there every night.

Hermione just shrugged and said that Ron was doing it too.

Ron denied it and then tried to get Harry to arm wrestle him, muttering something about man points.

Madame Pomfrey may have said there was no change, but Harry secretly disagreed. It had become easier and easier for Harry to get Snape to take his potions, and the color in the man's face had improved.

Well, as improved as it could get.

But still, it was an improvement.

Maybe he was just being overly optimistic.

Harry was walking around the small room with a book in his hand. Hermione and Ron had just been there for a little while to go over any findings they had from their research and also just to keep the green eyed teen company. Ron had gotten better about being around Snape, claiming it was only because he was unconscious, but Harry didn't care, he was just glad to have a conversation where someone answered him back.

His to friends had once again tried to get him to take a break from his bedside vigil, only to once again receive the same answer.

"Okay, so, this book says that different dimensions can be represented by colors or sensations when only touched upon, but they also say that when you encounter them, you tend to get violently sick. I don't think that's what happened do you?"

He looked over at the lying man as he continued to pace.

"Didn't think so. Ron keeps talking about me being a Seer. I don't think I like that. Isn't Divination about the future? I thought it was divination when I had that connection with Voldemort and—wait," Harry paused in his walk and looked up from the book, "does that mean we have a connection like that?"

Silence meant his question.

"Gads, wouldn't you just hate it if we did?" Harry asked with a laugh. He shook his head and returned to reading. "Course…I was occluded at the time and I would bet my Firebolt that you were too, so I doubt it was that…"

Harry fell quiet as he walked around and read from the small, dusty book. Orange light from the setting sun was peeking through the curtains. The house always got a bit chilly at night and Harry had already had to throw on his old, ratty red jumper over his shirt to combat the draft, meaning that tonight would be a colder one than normal. Perhaps he should have Kreacher bring up an extra blanket.

"What do you say, Snape? Are you—"

Harry stopped midsentence as he looked over at the Potion professor.

Harry must be losing his mind.

Probably lost it long ago, but the point was he must be seeing things.

He had spent too long talking to a comatose man.

But that could not stop Harry from walking over to said man and looking down at the angular face.

Because Harry could have sworn…

…that he had seen the Snape's nose twitch.

It had been a small movement. Barely perceivable, but it was there.

Or at least, Harry thought it was there.

Harry leaned down until his face was right in front of Snape's, trying to see if he could spot any other changes or small movements to the stoic visage.

A few moments later with nary a movement or twitch, and Harry was about ready to admit he had imagined the whole thing. Ron was right, he was mental.

"You are in my personal space."

Harry gave a yelp of surprise from the sudden gruff, deep voice and the unexpected movement of Snape's mouth. He quickly righted himself, overcompensated, and topped over on to the floor, disappearing from view for a few moments before his head popped back up over the edge of the bed, glasses askew.

"Snape?"

"It would appear so," the voice came again. It sounded rougher than normal, but that could easily be explained from the attack and four days of not using his vocal cords.

Harry scrambled to stand up and right his glasses to look at Snape's face once again. Two dark eyes were now looking out through squinted eyes, adjusting to the light.

The teen let out a whoop of celebration, "You're awake!"

Snape gave a small wince. His eyes opened a little more. "Could you possibly not yell, you little idiot?"

Harry just continued to smile. "Possibly." He said a little calmer than before. "Can I get you some water?"

"That would be…yes, that would be fine."

Harry quickly called Kreacher to the room, and faster than a snap and a blink, the elf was back with a glass. Harry took the cup and automatically did what he had done for days now and reached for the back of Snapes head to give him the drink.

"What do you think you are doing?" Severus snapped out as best as he could.

Harry brought his hand back. "Well, uh, giving you a drink?"

"I am perfectly capable of seeing to my own hydration."

Only Snape could use words like that right after waking up from a coma, Harry mused. He seriously doubted though, that the man would be able to lift his still damaged arms in order to take the cup.

"Ur…sir…"

"Give that here, Potter." Snape made an effort to lift an arm, but was only able to get the appendage to twitch ever so slightly. The dark man attempted to do the same with the other arm and found similar results. Harry could tell the normally independent man was becoming highly irritated with the situation and decided to just act. He could blame it on his Gryffindor side later.

He reached again to cradle the back of Snape's head and raised him up as he did with the potions.

"Potter!"

"I have been doing this for four days now," Harry said quietly. It was enough though, to stop whatever biting remark had been about to leave Snape's mouth.

"You? You have been my caretaker?"

"Yea. I've been giving you your potions."

"You?"

"Me."

"It is a wonder I am still alive."

"Madame Pomfrey gave me a color code for them."

"I am assured. Well, are you going to give me my water?"

Harry smiled and tipped the glass of water to the man's lips, letting him get a few gulps of water before he took the glass away slowly, setting on the table, and righting the man's head back on the pillow. Harry then returned to his usual chair.

"You have some potions to take in about a half an hour. One of them smells something awful, too."

"That would be the nutrient supplement." Snape's voice sounded better, but it was still harsh from disuse.

"Is it a sickly green color?"

Snape managed to roll his eyes. "Yes, it is a sickly green color."

"Then that's the one."

"Am I to look forward to you as my nursemaid for the duration of my convalescence?"

"I am not sure what that means, but I think you're stuck with me."

Snape turned his head slightly so that he could look at the messy haired teen. The movement was a strenuous one and took a lot longer than the tiny movement should have.

The two simply looked at each other for a long moment.

"I suppose it could be worse. I could be in the care of wild beasts or a Weasley."

"Or you could be in the care of both in the form of the twins."

Harry thought he saw the man's thin lips twitch upwards.

Or maybe he just imagined it.

"So," the teen wizard continued, "what should we talk about?"

Snape's brow rose in question. "You are staying?"

"Someone has to keep you company," Harry said matter-of-factly.

The healing wizard continued to look at his younger companion in a curious look. Harry just stayed still in his seat and met Snape's gaze. If he wanted to be friends with the man, he had to let him know that he was serious about helping him.

Something in his face must have been enough to convince the Potions Master of something, though.

"What have I missed while in a state of senselessness?"

Harry smiled and leaned back in his chair as he began to reiterate the events of the past few days. There wasn't that much to tell, but the other man seemed to listen just the same. The two continued to talk through the rest of the evening, only stopping twice for Snape to take his potions. The former spy grumbled and made a few snarky comments, but did not protest or argue when Harry once again supported his head and gave him each potion carefully. Much later on, when Snape had finally succumbed to sleep, Harry leaned back in his chair and felt his eyes began to droop.

'He woke up…'

The younger man's green eyes finally fell closed as he followed his mentor, dueling instructor, boxing partner, and reluctant friend into sleep.

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Thank you verily for reading Chapter 7!!

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Teaser for next chapter:

You want me to what now?

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Reviews are always loved!


	9. With a Friend Like This

**A/N: **My reviewers are the coolest! Actually, cool doesn't do justice. Quick! Thesaurus time. How about: marvelous or incredible or 'the bomb'. Okay, so the last one actually isn't in the thesaurus, but I think it gets the point across. Lol, anyways, thank you guys so incredibly much! I am not worthy of my readers. Big thanks also to those who also added this story to their alerts or favorites page.

What is this? An update? But…it is Monday (Or at least, for this writer it is - yay time zones). Usually the updates aren't till Tuesday? What's going on? This won't open up some weird hole in the space time continuum, will it?

I sure hope not.

My beta, the Great **Invader Shawn**, was – Dun duh dah! Super Beta – and got me this chapter back really quickly, so I figured I shouldn't keep people waiting and decided to post a little early

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Chapter 8: With a Friend Like This…

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_Don't make me tell you to say, 'Ah.' – Harry Potter_

Severus awoke slowly, since his eye muscles still felt tight from the days that he had spent in complete stupor.

That is when one knows that things are pretty bad.

When even one's eye muscles ache.

Well, that and Severus was really not a morning person.

He cracked his eyes open partially to see a sliver of light coming from what he assumed was the window somewhere out of his peripheral vision. Eventually, his eyes opened completely to take in the room. He had actually stayed in this room once or twice for order business, but, just like last night, he had not been interested to take in the décor. For a brief moment, though, he was grateful that the room had yet to be redecorated by the Gryffindors that now inhabited the house of Black. The rest of the place had become far too bright. Severus wondered how a person was supposed to relax in a room that was painted light yellow or blue. Perhaps it was his years in the dungeons, but he felt much more comfortable in a room with more subdued and grey tones.

'Green is an agreeable color. Bright green…'

A sound brought Severus from of his musings of hues; he was immediately on the alert, despite the fact that he was still certain that he was not able to move to defend himself if it was an intruder.

The sound, however, was not that of a Death Eater jumping out in a sneak attack, but a small hum in a medium tenor voice.

The Potions Master turned his neck and head—he mentally noted that the action was much easier than the night before—to look once more at the chair to his right.

Sitting there, with his head tilted back and to the side to rest on his shoulder and the back of the chair, was the boy who was supposed to save them all; the teen that had to lead a war. The whelp that constantly annoyed him.

The young man who was taking care of him.

Severus blinked as he took in the image of Potter sleeping in the chair beside him. He had been surprised when the boy had decided to stay and talk with him the previous evening when he woke up, but now the idea that Potter had also stayed by his bedside the entire night gave the older wizard an odd feeling.

No one had ever done that before. He had been hospitalized several times during both wars, and while Dumbledore did come to visit him, the dark eyed man was usually left to his own while healing. At the time, Severus had believed that was the way it should be. He did not need someone fawning all over him or acting as though he were dying. In fact, he did not cultivate any relationships that would lead another person to do such a thing. Severus was not a weak man, and he detested someone thinking such a thought of him. In the few stays at the hospital wing that he had suffered through, more often than not, he would end up arguing with Pomfrey until the Medi-Witch all but threw him out, which was fine by him.

Yet, here was Potter. The brat seemed to insist that they interact on more than just an instructor and student level. It was almost as though Potter wanted to be friends with him. The origin of this new development seemed to stem from the very first boxing match the two engaged in. Severus, himself, was baffled by his own allowance of such a different relationship to actually foster between himself and the spawn of his childhood rival.

Now that he thought about it, that statement really did not apply. True, James Potter was Potter's father, but the boy had grown up without any influence from the man and was, in fact, very different from his paternal lineage. In the few talks he had had with Potter, he had discovered that the boy was actually not deplorable to talk to—possibly pleasant even—seemed to have a small semblance of intelligence, and was in the possession of a sense of humor that Severus found surprisingly entertaining at times.

'Still has the complete and utter knack for being a little idiot, though,' Severus thought as he watched the younger wizard stir in his sleep.

Could he possibly be friends with Potter?

No.

Absolutely not.

This was probably an elaborate joke played by the ex-Gryffindor in order to once-and-for-all get back at the diabolical Potions professor who had tormented him during his schooling years.

Either that or the boy had hit his head one too many times and had completely gone mental.

They had absolutely nothing in common with one another.

What would they even talk about?

'You both seemed to be able to talk just fine last night,' a voice in the back of Severus's mind chimed in.

The Potions Master felt a spike of irritation at the voice. He was not nice.

He did not have friends.

He did not make friends.

Most of all, he did not make friends with a goodie-two-shoes Gryffindor.

"Potter!" Severus barked out as best as he could. He inwardly cursed at the fact that his voice did not carry the same power it once did due to a new, scratchy quality that did not seem to go away.

He accomplished his goal though, and nearly instantly regretted it.

Potter sat up straight in his chair, startled. His eyes, still dazed with sleep, were wide behind his glasses and his hair was sticking up even more so on one side from his awkward sleeping position. The teen's overall appearance looked like that of a ruffled owl.

Potter blinked at him for a few seconds, obviously still halfway asleep, then, he did something Severus Snape, master of Legilimens, had not seen coming.

He smiled.

It wasn't the cheeky smirk the teen sometimes sported when he smarted-off, and it wasn't the small smile that he usually had when he thought something was a little amusing; no, it was one of those unguarded full-blown smiles that Severus had never seen directed towards him.

Severus felt the urge to smile in response at the site in front of him, and he felt guilt over waking up the teen so abruptly.

Can't have that.

Severus cleared his throat a little. "Why did you sleep in here? Did you forget where your room is?" He was again unnerved by the fact that his voice was not as harsh as he wanted. It seemed he could not be as acidic as he wanted with the teen.

'What is this boy doing to me?'

Potter's smile faded. "Oh, er, sorry," he said as he brought his hand up to try and smooth down his hair. "I guess I just got used to sleeping in this chair."

'Got used to it? He's been sleeping there since I've been here?'

What was going on here?

"Well, while I…appreciate that…now that I am awake and seemingly stable, you should not have to stay at my bedside twenty-four-seven."

"Yea…Oh," Potter stood. "It's time for your potions for the morning. How are your arms? Can you lift them?"

Severus focused his energy to his arms and managed to raise his right hand, but it was very shaky and weak.

"Well, that's definitely an improvement, but I think I better still give these to you." The young man picked up the first of the three potions.

"Hmmmm," Severus growled as his head was lifted up by the teen's hand. He heated feeling this weak.

Severus dutifully drank all of the required potions, then a few drinks of water before his head was lowered back to the pillow. He looked over at his green-eyed companion as he sat back in the chair.

"What do you want Potter?"

"Er, what?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Why do you insist on pestering me and talking to me? Is there a point to all of this?"

He knew, but he wanted to confirm it from the boy's mouth.

Potter sighed, "I want us to be friends."

There, it was out in the open.

"I do not have friends."

"Time to start, don't ya think?"

"What makes you think I want to be friends with you?"

"You haven't thrown me out yet."

He had him there.

"I am not physically capable of throwing anyone out at the moment."

"You could throw me out by words alone. I think you could make a giant run terrified if you yelled enough," Pottered volleyed. That annoying little smirk was back.

Severus sat there for a few moments, contemplating the situation.

"I do not know how to be a friend. I am not a nice person," he finally said at last.

Potter brought a hand up to his own mouth and rubbed his lips, a gesture that Severus had come to interpret as the boy trying to keep laughter at bay. He should be mad that the brat was laughing at him, but he only seemed to be focusing on the boy's lips.

Potter finally brought his hand down. "I don't care."

Severus quirked an eyebrow. "You still wish to be friends?"

"Yep."

A silence overtook the room.

"Fine."

"Huh?"

Severus gave an exasperated sigh. "This can only end in disaster, but surprisingly, your company is not as burdensome as I would have previously thought. You must have matured a great deal since you were eleven. It almost seems impossible."

Potter gave a lopsided grin. "Thanks, I think."

Another silence.

Blackish eyes stared into green.

"What is the next step?" Severus finally asked.

"Step?" Potter asked, confusion written all over his face.

"I imagine there is a certain procedure one must follow in this situation."

"Um…no. Usually, these things just happen."

"Oh."

Who knew that friendship was so chaotic? Severus did not know if he liked this or not. He did not feel any different now that he had a friend.

The teen gave a small chuckle. "Here, let's try this." He scooted forward in his chair and before Severus had time to protest, he had taken the Potions Master's hand and began to shake it in greeting, carefully, though, so that he did not hurt the injured man's arm.

"Hi! I'm Harry Potter! You can call me Harry."

It took a lot to confuse Severus.

He was confused.

Very confused.

"This is preposterous."

"I've done worse. Now, what's your name?"

"I am Snape," he said. It was only after he had said it that he realized how silly this all was.

Harry laughed. "Your mother named you Snape?"

Severus felt his heckles rise. "No! My name is Severus!"

Potter—Harry—finally let his hand drop back to the bed. "Severus. That's a nice name. May I call you that?"

"May you…yes…yes, I suppose you may call me Severus."

Harry gave another smile. "Good. Now," He stood from his seat, "I am going to go and shower, do you need me to bring you breakfast before, Severus?"

What could be more disconcerting than hearing his name coming from Potter—Harry—Potter—the brat's mouth?

"No. No, I am comfortable at the moment."

"You don't need anything else?"

"No."

"No water? A pain potion?"

"Harry!"

Aha!

Found something more disconcerting!

That takes the cake.

Severus also did not like cake much, but the euphemism will stay.

Harry's mouth snapped closed and the teen looked at the older wizard in the bed expectantly.

"I am fine at the moment, Harry. You may take your leave to go and get ready for the day."

"Okay…I'll bring breakfast when I'm done, 'kay?"

"That will be acceptable."

Severus watched as the young man finally exited the room.

'What in the world have I gotten myself into?'

The older wizard sat in the silence for a moment and convinced himself that was what he wanted instead of Potter—Harry's constant chatter. After a very short time, though, he gave up and admitted that without the young wizard's presence and absolutely nothing to do, he was restless, bored. It was in this blasé state that Severus came to a realization.

He needed to use the lavatory.

For any other adult, this would not cause any worry.

However, when you had trouble moving your arms and legs, there's cause for worry.

Severus was not going to just lie there, though. This was simply a challenge and a Slytherin always found the cunning to rise to any challenge that was in their limits. He had no idea when Harry would be returning, but if he were able, he would be out of this bed before then.

Therefore, the Potions Master began to raise and move his arms, trying to strengthen them. Eventually, his arms did not shake as much, but still the weakness present in them, and, Severus feared, even more so in his legs, would mean failure if he decided to get up on his own.

'Perhaps death would have been better than to suffer through this humiliation.'

How long would he stay like this? He had suffered extensive hex damage; that could mean that the effects he was currently under would be permanent. He would be forced to a bed or even one of those charmed chairs that would carry him from place to place. With that thought in mind, Severus began to work in earnest to get his limbs to achieve rehabilitation. He would not be a vegetable! Severus did not know how long he worked at his task—in fact, he even forgot about why he had started this in the first place—and only stopped when Harry returned to the room with a couple of plates of food and a stack of books on a tray. The teen walked in and began to busy himself with the food and the tomes, talking away the whole time.

"I'm sorry I took so long. Mrs. Weasley was happy to hear that you are awake. Don't be surprised if she comes to visit here in a while. She was going to tell Madame Pomfrey, so I know that—what's the matter?"

Harry had finally turned his attention back to Severus to see an odd look on the man's face. Now that he did not have the goal of exercising his limbs to distract him, Severus remembered his dilemma.

'Bloody wonderful.'

"I require assistance," the man in the bed barked out.

Harry's brow raised slightly in surprise. He set the last of the books he had brought with him on the nightstand. "Alright, what do you need?"

Severus gave a huff. He squashed down any embarrassment he currently felt. Harry had agreed to be his nursemaid and this fell under his job description.

"I require assistance to the lavatory."

"You want me to what now?"

Realization hit Harry like a brick to the head and his face immediately blushed a bright red.

"Er— well, uh, yea, sure—I mean."

Harry hadn't thought about that before, which made him feel like kicking himself. Hard. Of course Severus would need that kind of thing. Could he really do that though? He had always been embarrassed when changing around other people, like at the dorms at school or during quidditch, but this was even worse. Severus was older and his teacher and…

Severus decided to save the bumbling wizard, even if it was quite entertaining to see the teen flounder.

"I simply require assistance walking there, Harry. You will not have to assist me the entire time."

His brain short-circuited by the thought of Harry actually assisting him the entire time.

Little did he know, Harry's brain did the same thing at the same time. The red still hadn't left the young man's face. In fact, Severus noticed that the red had even spread down Harry's neck.

"Well, yea, I mean, of course I'll help you," Harry said as he stepped up closer to the bed.

Harry stared down at the older man for a few minutes. 'Oh, please don't kill me for what I'm about to do,' He thought as he finally bent down and wrapped his arms around the man's upper back and helped him sit up. Severus also helped, but it was obvious that all of this movement was taxing his body.

"Isn't there a spell or something?" Harry asked as he helped move Severus's legs over to hang off the edge of the bed.

"Even if there was—and there is—I do not want to use it," Severus said stubbornly as he tried to push himself to the corner of the bed, his breath becoming labored with the effort.

"Why?"

"Because I am not an invalid, and I am not going to let these injuries turn me into a vegetable!" Severus snapped as Harry once again wrapped his arms around him and helped him stand.

The professor leaned heavily on his ex-student, but was determined to put weight on his legs. They shook violently, but they were not giving out just yet. Severus looked down and was appalled by the sight before him. Not because of his legs, but because of his clothes. He knew he had been wearing a black long sleeve shirt from his arm exercises; this, however, was the first time he had seen what was covering his legs. They were simple pajama bottoms, only there wasn't anything simple about them. They were an atrocious shade of red and covered with bright blue stripes. They were also almost comically too short for him.

Harry also looked down at where Severus was looking and felt his face heat up once more.

"Those are my pajamas."

Severus's head snapped up so fast that he nearly head butted Harry in the nose. Luckily, the teen was able to dodge the blow. The fast movement nearly overbalanced the two; Harry had to brace his feet to keep Severus and himself standing upright.

"These heinous pants are yours?" Severus asked incredulously.

"Um, yea."

"Why am I in your pants?"

Whoa now.

Harry was starting to think that he would permanently be red. What was this, national embarrassment day? He knew that the Severus did not mean anything by the comment other than annoyance at having to wear someone else's clothes, but whenever you live in a dorm room with three other boys and then all of the Weasley sons, when you hear a statement like that, you can't help but think of the dirty connotation.

Severus also realized what he said had an innuendo to it when he saw the teens face and neck flush so terribly that the man worried he would pass out. Had he really just said that to the brat? Before he had a chance to backtrack and correct the statement, Harry was plowing through with a response, despite his embarrassment.

"Well, I guess Madame Pomfrey and Mrs. Weasley decided to dress you in them when you first came here. Your other clothes were bloody and pretty torn up so I think Mrs. Weasley just banished them or let Kreacher burn them. I'm sorry if they were good clothes, but there was only so much a person could do to fix them and…"

Severus knew he needed to stop this before the teen hyperventilated.

"Harry!"

"Huh?" Harry finally stopped his ramblings at the sudden interruption.

"I will need to be getting to the lavatory sometime in the near future."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

The two finally began to shuffle to the door. Severus certainly hoped now that none of the other occupants of the house would see him. Not because he was weak, though that was part of it, but because he was certain now that he looked a damn fool in his current attire.

The first few steps were a real struggle with Harry doing most of the work to move them down the hall. After more and more steps, though, Severus's discomfort began to lessen and he started to put more and more weight on his own feet and walk with a steadier pace. By the time they reached the bathroom, Severus, tired as he now was, was confident in his limbs' abilities to hold him up.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay in there?" Harry said as he stared at the bathroom door with trepidation. After moving Severus, Harry wasn't too sure if the man could be left alone, even if it was to go to the bathroom.

"I have faced more challenging obstacles than this."

"Yea...but—"

"If it makes you feel better," Severus said as he pushed up from Harry's shoulder and more onto his own weight. He reached out and grabbed onto the doorknob, "I will not lock the door and shall call you immediately if needed."

"Do you want me to get you some different pants?" Harry asked as Severus opened the door. "I think Ron's might fit you."

Severus's eyes widened as he turned back to look at his assistant, "Bite your tongue, brat!"

Harry simply smiled. "Had to ask. Remember to call if you need me."

The taller wizard huffed and slowly shuffled onto the white tile of the bathroom floor and shut the door. It wasn't until then that Severus realized that his tone when he had said that last thing had been almost…playful.

Dear God, had he suffered brain damage?

That seems to be the only explanation.

Because there is no possible—no conceivable—way that he had just said something playfully.

Severus shuddered at the idea. He looked up at himself in the small, medicine cabinet mirror.

Why was this getting to him? He was overreacting to this whole situation. Nothing really had to change, did it? So he would possibly have to talk with Harry more; he could suffer through that. Just because he was friends with Harry did not mean that he had to spend time with the Weasleys, Granger, or the wolf.

Nothing different.

Right?

Severus sighed and studied his reflection. He was pale and had a gash above his right eye that was healing slowly. Flashes of the night with the Lestranges came to his mind and he closed his eyes to block out the memories. The tall wizard turned his face away and decided to take care of the business that brought him there. It would not do to dwell on such things. He had survived. That was all that mattered.

Severus took care of his business as quickly as physically possible and, in what felt like an eternity of shuffled steps and slow, painful movements, he was back at the door to be greeted once again by Harry.

"I was worried you had fallen in!" Harry said with a smirk as he once again brought Severus's arm up and over his shoulder to start the trek back to the room.

"You know how they say laughter is the best medicine?" Severus said dryly as they walked.

"Yea."

"Not when you are telling the jokes."

Harry just let out a laugh and continued to assist the professor into his room and back into bed. This time, instead of lying completely flat, Severus was propped up with pillows to a more reclining position. He was then bombarded with a tray carrying what looked like an inordinate amount of food.

"I cannot eat all of this!" He may have been out for a few days, but that did not mean he had to make up for it in one meal.

"I certainly hope you don't," Harry said as he picked up one of the plates and silverware. "One o' these is mine." He plopped down in the chair and began to eat.

Severus also picked up the fork beside his plate with the intention of eating, but found that he must have exerted his arms a little too much with the trip to the bathroom. His hand and arm were shaking quite noticeably, and every time he would spear a piece of egg, it would soon fall off on its way to his mouth. Severus was becoming increasingly frustrated. He was an ex-Death Eater. A spy for the Order. He was well versed in Dueling and a very powerful wizard. Damn it, a piece of egg should not be able to beat him so easily! The tray and all the food on it was another-dropped-bite-of-food away from being flung across the room when a hand smaller than his own reached across Severus's line of vision. The hand took the fork, pierced a morsel of the egg that was still on the plate and not on Severus's lap, and finally, the hand turned the fork to where the food faced Severus, waiting for him to eat. The Potions Master looked over and, sure enough, the hand was attached to Harry.

"I am not an infant! I can feed myself!"

Harry just kept still and looked at his ex-professor. "You wanna eat?"

"Of course I do, so give me the fork back!"

"Uh-huh. You're going to end up wearing it instead of eating it. You know, Ron one time ate in bed and Crookshanks ended up getting in there while he was sleeping."

Severus's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare let that flea-bag near me."

The teen played the copycat and also narrowed his eyes. "You gonna eat or not?"

The man in the bed continued to scowl, but eventually he leaned his head forward and took the bite of food. He chewed and swallowed as the Harry returned the fork to the plate to get more food.

"This is entirely unnecessary," and embarrassing, his mind supplied. "There are simple spells that we can perform that can do this task and leave you free to eat your breakfast as well."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure there is, but if there is one thing I've learned in the wizarding world, it's to not trust inanimate objects. You really want this fork," he waved the utensil with egg on it around a little, "flying towards your face? I know I wouldn't."

Now that Harry mentioned it, several not so pleasant scenarios involving what a self-animated fork would cause went through Severus' mind.

None of them pretty.

"Mention this to anyone and—"

"I know, I know. Certain death."

"Your food will get cold." It was Severus's last protest. It was a weak one, but he hoped to appeal to the youthful appetite.

"It'll be fine. Don't make me tell you to say, 'Ah.'"

"You little—"

Severus started, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the fork and food was in his mouth.

The older wizard wondered if the prophecy was true and if it would really make any difference if he strangled the boy right now. Dumbledore would probably lecture him about it…but it may just be worth it.

He swallowed the forced bite.

"When I finally recover, I am going to kick your little arse." It was not a threat. It was a promise.

"Well, it will give you a reason to get better sooner." Harry cut up a piece of fried ham and presented a small slice.

Severus looked at the fork for a moment, and then finally opened his mouth without protest. The rest of the meal passed in near silence, occasionally the two would exchange a comment or two, but mostly the time was spent with Harry feeding Severus his breakfast.

"I brought you some books to read since you're stuck in the bed," Harry said as he moved the tray away from Severus when his plate was clean.

The teen then handed the man one of the heavy books before he picked up his own plate to eat. Severus watched as the boy took his eggs and ham and put it between his two pieces of toast to make a sandwich that he then promptly began to devour it.

Severus watched him take a few very large bites.

"You know, contrary to what I have said in the past about you having a big mouth, I do not believe eating your whole breakfast in two bites is considered natural," he said dryly as the boy finished the sandwich without even batting an eye to the comment. He simply smirked as he swallowed.

"Well, I gotta get to the library to look through some books with Hermione. Unless you want me to stay! I mean, Hermione has been bringing me books for days now and—"

Severus held up a hand to stop the babble.

"You have left me books. I shall be fine for a few hours."

Harry still felt unsure. "Okay, well, just holler if you need me." He began to walk to the door.

"I think I should be perfectly able to yell at you if need be," Severus said with a mask of no emotion as he picked up the book that had been handed to him. He was pleased to see it was a tome about the effects of substitutions in advanced potions.

Harry laughed and walked out of the room, calling out as he went, "Yea, you've had a lot of practice at that."

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"So, Snape is awake? Shoulda known. Snake is too stubborn to bite the big one," Ron said as he leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head in relaxation.

"Ron, that is a terrible thing to say. I, for one, am happy that he survived," Hermione said from behind a large book.

The tall redhead let out a cough that sounded a lot like 'teacher's pet'.

Harry laughed as Hermione crumpled up a small piece of parchment and pegged Ron in the head with it.

He had seen his two friends in the kitchen that morning when he went to get breakfast and had told them that if he could, he join them in the study to research the white space. Hermione had found some books that sounded similar to what Harry had described, only to find out later from Harry that it wasn't right. Harry decided that it might very well be better if he was nearby to look at the different descriptions so that Hermione would not have to wait or run upstairs in order to confirm it. Now that Severus was awake and feeling better, Harry didn't feel too guilty about doing just that.

He put down the book he had been reading about time travel to look at his friends. "I agree with Ron. Severus is stubborn."

Ron had a real coughing fit this time. He leaned forward in the chair and covered his mouth with both hands as the fit overtook him.

Hermione just rolled her eyes. She smirked as she leaned over to pat her boyfriend on the back a few times to help alleviate the hacking.

"Merlin, Harry, did you just call Snape by his first name?"

Harry replayed his last statement. He shrugged. "Yea, I did. He said I could."

"Ah, so he has brain damage now, does he? That's a shame."

"Ron!"

"What Hermione? It's obviously something! The Snape we grew up around would never agree to be called by his first name. We have obviously stumbled into a weird parallel universe."

"Yea," Harry said with a smirk. He picked up his book again, "and the only thing different in that universe is that Severus asked me to call him by his name."

"It could happen."

"Read your book Ron," the smirking, green-eyed teen replied.

His taller friend did just that, but Harry had to chuckle as Ron grumbled under his breath. He couldn't make out everything that was said, but he did hear the redhead say something about him calling the Potions Master Severus was even more freaky that hearing the Dark Lord's name. Finally, the muttering became less and less until the three teenagers were sitting in comfortable silence as they skimmed through their respective books.

At one point, Madame Pomfrey apparated in for her appointment with Severus. She had stopped by briefly to announce her presence, but quickly left to check on the patient. The green-eyed young man wondered how Severus was doing.

Harry looked up at the antique clock from time to time to make sure he did not forget to go back up to check on Severus and take him lunch. Since Mrs. Weasley had left for the Burrow shortly after breakfast, that meant he would be the one preparing lunch for his former professor. He still had about an hour to go before that, but he was starting to get antsy.

Anyone would after reading boring books for an hour.

Go ahead and try it.

Harry wouldn't recommend it, though.

His eyes were starting to cross.

"Found anything yet?"

Harry looked up from the sentence that he had already read about six times to see Hermione gazing at him expectantly.

"Err, no. This thing is talking about time travel mostly. They mention something about an in between area that can change colors, but I didn't travel through time. Even if that is the case, I would mark it down as one of the bad scenarios."

"Why, mate? I think it'd be wicked to be able to travel back in time! Think of all the stuff you could do and everything!" Ron said as he put his own book down. The tall teen was grateful for the distraction.

"Yea, but this book just keeps talking about messing with the natural timeline and how detrimental changing the past could be. It would be great to go back in time and get Voldemort before he got stronger, but who knows what the heck I would mess up as a result." Harry closed the large book and leaned back in his chair to rest his eyes.

"I still think it would be wicked."

"We'll put it on the 'maybe' list. Sound good?" Harry compromised.

The redhead also closed his book and leaned back. "I can live with that."

"You two aren't stopping, are you?"

"'Mione, love, if I read any more, my head will explode."

Harry could only nod his head in agreement with Ron.

Hermione huffed, but finally closed her book as well. "Fine, so did you find anything, Ron?"

"Nope," the taller young man leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees to support his head. "Not unless Harry is 'experiencing the effects of a hallucinatory potion.'"

Hermione whipped around to look at Harry. "Are you?"

"I don't even know what that means."

Ron smirked. "Means you're on drugs, mate."

"Hey!"

"Oh, calm down," his aggravating friend said with a chuckle. "It doesn't even match your description, really."

"You should watch what you eat and drink though," Hermione interjected.

"You two are going to make me as paranoid as—"

Mad Eye Moody.

The three teens grew silent.

"So," Harry broke the quiet moment finally, "did you find anything Hermione?"

The brunette witch sighed. "Nothing even remotely helpful. You would think we would be able to find something! We are running out of books to read."

"That's a shame."

"Hush, Ron."

"Yes, ma'am."

The messy headed teen stood and stretched. "It's just as well. I need to make lunch and get Severus to take his potions."

"You better watch out, Harry. You'll make someone a good wife one of these days," Ron said with a chuckle.

"Oi!"

Harry was about to defend that he was very much a man and would not be a wife anytime this lifetime, but he couldn't.

The alarm had gone off.

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Severus had managed to read about a chapter and a half of the book Harry had given him.

The next thing he knew, though, an entirely over-cheerful Madame Pomfrey was waking him up as she walked into his room with a spirited greeting and the sentiments of her happiness that he was on the mend. He looked down and noticed his book resting on his chest. He must have dozed off.

"Now that you are awake, I can run another diagnostic." The Medi-witch replied as she brought out her wand and began to cast all the necessary spells. Occasionally, she would ask Severus a question about his discomfort level with certain things or anything he had noticed since being conscious. That was the only time Severus spoke during the examination. He appreciated Madame Pomfrey as an excellent Healer, probably one of the best, but he had never been fond of examinations and was very uncomfortable during the whole ordeal. In the past, he had expressed his discomfort with snide remarks and sarcasm. That had to stop, though, when Dumbledore had reprimanded him for getting into a yelling match with Madame Pomfrey on two occurrences. Now he opted to simply stay quiet.

Finally, Madame Pomfrey pocketed her wand. "Well, it seems you are well on your way to recovery. You are still a little weak, but that is to be expected. If you keep taking your potions, then you should be fine. That reminds me, how has your nurse been?"

Severus chose to ignore the smirk on the woman's face. "Adequate."

The elderly witch hummed. "He seemed so worried about you and was so quick to help you out in any way. He is such a sweet dear."

'Hm, Harry sure has her fooled.'

"Of course," the witch continued, unaware of the Potions Master's thoughts, "he was so frazzled after what happened, I think he wanted to stay by your side to make sure nothing else happened."

Severus was brought out of his ponderings. "Why was he frazzled?"

Madame Pomfrey's face took on a look of mild surprise, "You mean he didn't tell you what happened?"

"He simply said that a group from the Order came in and fought off the Lestranges and then apparated me here."

"Hmm," the woman said as she checked over the remaining potions and disposed of the empty vials. "He left out the best part."

Severus was getting agitated. The witch seemed to be purposefully avoiding the question. "Well then, what is the best part?"

"Now now, getting agitated is not healthy for you."

"Considering you are the one causing this agitation, then you should be ashamed of yourself."

The grey-haired healer smirked. "Touché."

She caved and told him the story of what had happened. She said at the very beginning that she could not tell the whole story, since she had only heard about it after, but she told Severus what she could about the visions the young, messy-haired teen had experienced along with the spike in power and apparent use of wandless magic. Severus had never been so glad that the Medi-Witch had a secret indulgence in gossip.

By the time she was done with her account, the stoic wizard was about ready to pinch Harry's head off.

"Why did he leave such information out when he told me?"

Madame Pomfrey, who had sat down in Harry's usual chair during her time talking—something that Severus found bugged him, though he was not sure why—simply shrugged. "He is very modest, but if you really want to know, then you should ask him."

Oh, Severus was going to ask him all right. Here they had been trying to get the boy to perform magic wandlessly, and the second the brat actually does, he keeps that information from him. He had better have one hell of an excuse for this and that might not even absolve him of this—

An alarm sounded throughout the house. Severus was instantly on alert.

"Oh dear, it seems there is another attack in progress," the Medi-Witch stated the obvious, but Severus let it slide.

He made an effort to get out of bed. It was a Death Eater attack. He needed to be fighting. He needed to be doing something.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"What do you think I am doing, woman?" Severus bit out angrily as he still continued to fight the covers to get up.

He was stopped by Madame Pomfrey; the witch was surprisingly quite strong.

No.

Severus was just very weak at the moment from his injuries.

Yes, that was it.

"You are not going anywhere. You are in no shape to fight. I will bind you to the bed if you insist on getting up!"

It was not a threat.

She would do it.

Severus finally stopped struggling and sent the elderly witch a glare. She was unfazed and finally moved away from the man on the bed and took Harry's seat again.

"Well, since the rest of the house is away on the emergency call, I shall stay here to make sure none are injured and give you your potions. We can always chat to pass the time."

'Oh, goody.'

Severus did not want to admit it, especially not to himself, that he was feeling a bit of worry over the whole situation. Harry had better come back. Severus was already ready to admit that the brat's company was far superior to that of the Medi-Witch's, and there was the whole matter of chewing the boy out for withholding information.

That and the boy was a hopeless klutz at times.

Who would be there to make sure something bad did not happen?

Severus did not even know what the emergency was. Where the attack was or who was involved. He was not the spy anymore.

The boy had better come back.

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Thank you for reading chapter eight!!

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Teaser for nest chapter:

I think I've found something!

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Reviews are loved!


	10. The Game Gets Harder

**A/N: ***Singing off-key* Who has really great readers? I dooo-ooooo! Who has really awesome reviewers? I dooo-ooooo! Who wants to say a big thank you? I dooo-ooooo!* …Sorry. Lol, don't know where that came from…Thank you though for all the reviews and alerts and favorites. You guys are totally rockin', man.

All hail the mighty Beta **Invader Shawn**. Who was nice enough to beta this chapter for me. Thank you so!

Alrighty, as you all may be wondering. I am already to chapter 9 and it seems the story is still in the beginnings. You would be correct. I have so many idea's for this story that there is no way this is going to be the twelve chapters like my three previous stories…more like…I dunno…18? Maybe even more….Is that too long?

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Chapter 9: The Game Gets Harder

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_It's like when you're little and you're told by your mum that you can have a cookie, but you're too scared that you're still gonna be punished when you take the cookie. – Ron Weasley_

It really hadn't been much of a fight at all.

When they had gotten the alarm, Harry had expected it to be similar to the last battle—well, the last battle before they had rescued Severus, that is.

Instead, it had resembled something more like the skirmishes that had occurred before Christmastime. There had only been a few Death Eaters attacking a muggle vacation spot, and they had retreated after a very brief confrontation with the Order.

There were a few things, though, about the fight that seemed off to Harry.

For one thing, it was during broad daylight. The Death Eaters had attacked some during the day, but usually reserved their schemes for the cover of nightfall. At first, Harry had thought that it was a strategic element, now he simply thought it was because they thought it made them look cool.

Another difference was the obvious absence of three key Death Eaters. Though they normally wore masks, it was very easy to pick out one of the Lestrange brothers. It was even easier to identify Bellatrix, since the demented witch always went without a disguise. Harry hoped beyond hope that the three had been severely punished for failing Voldemort by letting Severus get away. From his visions that he had gotten before Occlumency, Harry knew that Voldemort did not take too kindly to weakness of any kind and doled out punishments as if he were bestowing gifts on his followers. Harry knew that it was quite wrong to hope the group met some sort of painful comeuppance, but he could not help it, considering the way they had tortured his friend.

Finally, to the green-eyed teen it seemed that the dark minions had been focusing their attack on him alone. Though they did throw hexes and curses at the others, they cast twice as many at him. He dodged and blocked and cast as many spells at them as he could, hitting a few, but with nothing that caused any damage. Harry really didn't think too much about it. Several times in the past saw Death Eaters getting very exuberant in their attacks on him with the thought that if they fell the Boy-Who-Lived then they would be exalted amongst Voldemort's followers. It was just a little odd that it had been all of the Death Eaters. Perhaps he was just paranoid.

Harry was just putting his wand back in the holder around his thigh, when his two friends approached him. The rest of the Order present was busy modifying the muggle witness's memories, while the few aurors were already leaving to file their reports to the ministry.

"That was very smart, Harry," Hermione said as she took him by the arm and began to lead the two boys to the designated apparation spot away from the campsite.

She had been hit by a few cutting hexes, but had almost instantly healed them. Her skin was pink and slightly raw where the cuts had once been.

It appeared Ron had also been healed, though he did have a cut on his right arm that looked like it would require more advanced magic to heal, but nothing out of Hermione's knowledge. Harry also noticed that it had ruined the sleeve of Ron's newest sweater from his mum. Would Mrs. Weasley simply fix the sweater, or knit him a new one?

Harry himself hadn't really suffered any ill effects aside from a few cuts and burns. Easily healed.

"What was smart?" Harry asked as they neared the dense grouping of trees that would serve to hide their departure. "And doesn't all of us walking into the woods look a little suspicious?" He craned his neck to look behind him and saw both Remus and Tonks following them.

"Not nearly as suspicious as all of us disappearing into thin air right in front a group of innocent muggles. Don't worry, Kingsley had their memories modified to where they won't come out of their trance for about thirty minutes. It would seem they decided to have a lie-in today," Hermione said with a smirk as they entered the trees.

"Wish we could have a lie-in sometime," Ron said with an overly dramatic sigh. "Been a hundred years since I've slept in."

"Didn't you sleep in just this past Saturday?" Harry queried.

"Yea, but that was a hundred years ago."

"Man, time flies," Harry said with a lopsided grin.

The three stopped in a small clearing, then one after another they dissapparated away and reappeared back in the foyer of Grimauld place.

Hermione didn't even wait for Harry to catch his breath from the instantaneous travel. She had gone into business mode. She walked off into the drawing room, but called out to the green-eyed teen as she left.

"We never got to finish our first conversation."

"What one is that? Usually we don't finish the conversations we started."

Harry and Ron followed her and sat on the couch. While the fight had not been an overly difficult one, it had been tiring nonetheless. As soon as Harry's back hit the couch he relaxed to the point that he thought he and the throw pillows he was sitting beside had the same consistency. Hermione was pacing around the room. Unless a battle was particularly grueling, Hermione was always hyped-up on adrenaline after a run-in with Death Eaters. Ron had once tried to liken it to another occurrence where Hermione would be on an adrenaline high, but Harry had hit him with a silencing curse before he could get the point across.

"What has got you bugged, 'Mione?" Ron also had relaxed into the couch and had even gone so far as to close his eyes. Harry knew that, if allowed, Ron would sleep right then and there.

He also knew that Hermione would never allow it.

"Ron! Wake up. This is no time to sleep."

See?

"What?" Ron cracked open a blue eye.

"Neither of you were the least bit concerned about what happened back there?"

"Uhhhh…"

"And there's my answer." Hermione shook her head. Harry didn't think they were in trouble though for their lack of brain power at the moment. The small scowl on her mouth didn't reach her eyes. "That was a scouting mission," She began again. "They were scoping out Harry's new powers."

"I haven't got any new powers," Harry replied as he brought his head up from the back of the couch to look over at his brunette friend.

"Course you do, mate," Ron laughed and closed his eyes again. "The power to tame the Snape."

"Don't start," the young witch warned. "Harry, as I have said, when we rescued Professor Snape you exhibited some pretty advanced magic."

"Yea, but we thought it was linked to the white space and so far we haven't found anything about that. It was probably accidental magic."

"That could be, but those shields you put up around yourself were very powerful and even. I doubt they could have been accidental."

"Then maybe I'm not the one who cast them. I mean, I don't even remember thinking of shielding myself."

"Exactly."

"Huh?"

"Oh, honestly. The point is, it is obvious that when Voldemort confronted the Lestranges about letting Professor Snape get away that the three mentioned your new powers. This was Voldemort's way of seeing if they were being truthful or not. You did a very smart thing by fighting normally back there."

"But I didn't do anything different!" Harry was getting somewhat frustrated with this conversation.

"Wait, Harry's right," Ron finally spoke up. "How's old snake-face gonna know for sure if Harry has these new powers? He wasn't there both times. Plus, the Death Eaters that attacked us didn't fight very hard. I mean, can't've Harry known this was a set up and hidden his powers? Kind of a 'he knows, that we know, that he knows' kind of thing?"

Hermione finally sat down in one of the chairs across from the couch. "That makes sense, Ron."

"It does?"

"It does?" Harry echoed.

"Yes, but that works in our favor. This was more of a prod, to see if Harry would use his powers all of the time. It was a test. Voldemort hoped that Harry would show off his powers as a message, that way he would have at least an idea of what he was now up against. Harry is a powerful wizard already—don't give me that face, Harry—and now, Voldemort will have to guess just how powerful he is. Underestimate and the consequences could be severe."

"Which only leaves him with overestimate, which trust me, is very easy to do."

"Hush, Harry. By overestimating, he will be more cautious in approaching you himself. He already has been overcautious with you because the prophecy, and now, he has that, plus the idea that you know something he doesn't."

"So…you want him to wait to show off his new powers?" the redhead asked as he leaned a little forward on the couch. Hermione's explanation had seemed confusing, but maybe that was just him.

Harry was getting really frustrated and confused now. They were missing the key aspect in all of this. "But I haven't got any powers!"

Hermione chose to ignore Harry and looked directly at Ron. "Precisely. That way, when the time is right, we will have the element of surprise!"

The bespectacled teen huffed. "Well that's just great. It'll be a surprise to me as well!"

He watched as brown eyes, belonging to his dear, witch friend, rolled towards the ceiling. The young woman then got up from her chair and moved over to the couch where she sat in between the two boys.

"Harry, everything will be fine. You may not think it yet, but whatever you did back there at Spinner's End can be duplicated. And if we can figure out what it is, then hopefully we can control it."

Harry turned his head to look into Hermione's eyes. The two had what could have been considered a staring contest for several moments, until the messy, black-haired teen spoke.

"Yea…Okay," he said as he turned his head again to rest against the back of the couch, "We'll keep looking. And I won't show off my nonexistent new powers when we fight Death Eaters."

It was all another move in this game.

How would Voldemort move now that the Order had supposedly gained a trump card?

Wait.

'I thought this war game was like chess.'

Now we are throwing in cards as well?

'The game is always changing,' Harry thought as he ran his hand through his hair.

Hermione patted him on his knee. "All I am asking is that you keep an open mind, to keep training and keep looking. Now, I am starving." She pushed herself up from the couch and began to walk out of the room. "Anyone else want lunch?"

Lunch.

Severus!

"I was supposed to take Severus his lunch and give him his potions!" Harry said as he stood quickly from the couch.

He looked at the clock against the wall and swore under his breath as he hurried out past Hermione and up the stairs. He didn't have time to see the look his two best friends exchanged. He was in too much of a hurry.

Harry took the steps two at a time and made it to the landing and to the guest door in record time. The teen slowly opened the door, fully expecting to see an alone Severus looking quite put out and irritated with him.

Two out of three isn't bad.

Severus did look very much put out and irritated, but he wasn't alone.

Madame Pomfrey was sitting in the chair by the bed, chattering away as she would ever so often feed Severus a spoonful of soup.

"Uh," was all Harry had gotten to say. The small noise alerted the two occupants in the room, both turning their attention solely to him.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. I take it that the emergency did not leave any injured?" the Medi-Witch said as she stood slowly from the chair.

Was it just his imagination, or did Severus look relieved that he was there?

He did have an active imagination.

"No, ma'am. There was only minor injuries, and Hermione took care of most of them."

The elderly witch beamed. "That's my apprentice! Now, I must be getting back. The Hospital wing will not run itself. Severus, I shall be back to check on you in a few days."

Harry watched from the doorway as Pomfrey gathered up her things and brushed past him into the hallway. She turned back to him after a few steps.

"Take care of the patient, Mr. Potter. He is…quite stubborn."

'I am sure he is.'

"Will do!" He gave a small salute to the graying woman. She nodded, then continued to walk down to the entryway.

Harry stayed where he was standing, hearing the footsteps of the Healer getting quieter and quieter.

"I thought she would never leave," Severus finally voiced when he was certain the witch was out of earshot.

"She was nice to keep you company."

"Oh yes, very nice," the Potions Master said sarcastically. He shifted some in the bed, jostling the tray that still had the soup on it.

Harry didn't even have to think twice. He walked over and sat down in the chair and went straight for the spoon to give Severus another bite. He did not say anything during the time. He had a feeling Severus more preferred to eat in silence. That was, at least, a working hypothesis, until Severus began to talk a few spoonfuls later.

"There was one beneficial thing to having Pomfrey here."

"Oh, what is that?"

"Tell me, Potter," Severus began.

Uh-oh.

Back to the last name.

That cannot be good.

Harry was trying to go through the list of things Severus could accuse him of, but was cut short when the man got to the point.

"Did you think it was acceptable to keep the information that you had performed wandless magic and had these…visions during the night of my attack from me?" Severus asked in his best teacher-mightier-than-thou voice.

Oh.

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Here we have been trying to accomplish that goal for months and you just happen to leave off the piece of information when you talked about that night. You have got to have no brain in that head of yours to think that you can go around talking in half truths just for the sake of some hare-brained sense of modesty and humility that will not help us win this war!"

Harry could tell that Severus was upset, but trying not to let himself get too worked up because of his condition. While the man's voice was still at a normal volume level, it was very strained and there were signs of pink in the older wizards cheeks that belayed his growing disapprobation.

He had to calm him down before he popped something.

Either a blood vessel…or the back of Harry's head.

'He wouldn't hurt me…maybe…'

The green-eyed teen set the soup spoon back in the bowl and looked at his former professor. It wouldn't do to get defensive about this. Just best to tell the truth.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Honestly, I don't really know what happened." He was met with a skeptical glare. "It's the truth. I didn't really feel like I was doing anything. Ron, Hermione and I have been looking for an explanation to all of this. No such luck though."

"Perhaps it may be wise to actually tell me the full account of what happened, hmm?"

Harry was secretly pleased to note that, while he still seemed highly irritated about being left out of the loop, the dark Potions Master had calmed down significantly. It didn't look as though he were about to have a conniption, but only that he might fling a spoonful of soup at Harry's face. The teen really hoped that didn't happen. It looked like split pea. Harry stared at the bowl.

"You actually like that stuff?"

"You are far too easily distracted. Focus, you little airhead."

Harry looked back up. "Sorry."

He went back over the account of the night, leaving nothing out this time. It was a much shorter tale than the first one he told, but, then again, Severus had heard most of it and was really only interested in the little parts where Harry's magic had been different. Finally, after he was done talking, he picked up the spoon again and offered the recovering man more soup.

"That is everything?" Severus asked, not taking the offered food

Harry did not attempt to put the spoon in Severus's mouth when it opened, either. He might lose a finger.

Or two.

Perhaps even the whole hand.

He did, though, keep the spoon in front of his face. Harry wondered if feeding Snape was always going to be this taxing.

So far, they were on a roll.

"Lord, I hope so," the green-eyed wizard answered.

"And you have been doing research in order to find the cause?"

"Yep, it was Hermione's suggestion."

"Of course. I expect to also be brought books to read on the subject. While I am sure Ms. Granger is able to read and gleam a substantial amount of information from doing so, I have my doubts about you and Mr. Weasley."

Hidden somewhere in that insult was an offer to help.

Harry gave a lopsided grin, "Sure, I'll bring up some books about it, though I think we are starting to run out of useable options."

"I highly doubt that."

"I am sure you do."

Severus looked up at Harry as if he were about to say something else, but then simply decided to take the spoonful of soup that the teen was still holding in front of him.

Harry decided the subject was dropped, at least for now, and they continued with lunch. Towards the end of the soup, the younger caregiver had called Kreacher in to politely ask the house elf to also bring him some lunch. He asked for just a sandwich, fearing that there was any leftover pea soup.

Kreacher returned a short time later with the requested lunch. Harry held his sandwich with one hand as he fed Severus the rest of the soup and handed the man his tea. The teen noted that the older man's hand was shaking some, but none of the tea was sloshing out, so he left the man with the little bit of independence.

"Severus, can I ask you something?"

"I believe you just did."

"Hmmm. Careful with that joke, it's ancient. 'Course—"

"Finish that sentence with anything about my age and I will throw this tea at you."

"You like to throw food at people, don't you?"

"I believe you had a question for me?"

Harry chuckled lightly. "Right. So, why didn't you tell anyone about what was happening with the Death Eaters? I mean, they found out you're a spy, right? That's why they attacked you?"

"That was more than one question."

"Never was good at math."

Severus sighed and looked down at his reflection in his cup of tea. He noticed that the image was wavering and lowered the cup to his lap before it spilled. "You are correct. I was discovered as a spy. I did not tell anyone because there was nothing to tell."

He saw that the boy was about to interrupt and continued quickly. "If I was to disclose that information to the Order, then Dumbledore would have ordered me to stop spying that instant. My role as a spy was crucial to the Order's plans. Now that I am unable to do that, I have no useful purpose. Even though I knew that I was to be found out eventually, I wanted to do my job for as long as I was able."

"What…what happened that night?" Harry was arguing in his head whether or not he wanted to know.

"Are you certain that you want to know?"

It was as if he had read Harry's mind.

Wait…he can read his mind.

Were his occlumency shields up?

Yes, yes they were.

So, it was just a coincidence then.

"Yes, I want to know."

The older, longhaired man gave another, long-suffering sigh and then began a tale of his own. About the wards going off at his house, the Lestranges and Voldemort and the ensuing torture at the hands of his captors until he had lost consciousness. Harry listened in rapt attention to the man's tale, his sandwich all but forgotten on the plate in his lap.

"So Voldemort had been there? Why did he leave?"

"The Dark Lord…Voldemort, has always been hypocritical, as you have discovered in your own encounters with him. That hypocrisy has gotten worse over time due to his increasing instability."

"Instability?"

"He is going insane, or more insane that before, if that is possible. Voldemort is letting power, paranoia, and greed affect his mind so much that his actions are becoming more unpredictable. Before my untimely departure from the Death Eater ranks, he was discussing going out on attacks into the muggle world, something he would never do. Back during the first war, Voldemort would not have even stepped foot in Spinner's End, lest he be contaminated by a half-blood's home." He saw that Harry was about to say something, but knew what he was going to say and already began answering the question.

"Just because the man used me as a spy and a potion brewer does not mean the man wanted to sit down and have tea with me. I can only be proud that my betrayal angered him so much that he decided to grace me with his presence in my own home." Severus finished sarcastically as he brought his teacup to his lips for a sip.

Harry sat there for a moment taking in all that Severus had said. If Voldemort was becoming more unpredictable in his actions, then would that mean that the game just got harder…or easier?

"So…he is even harder to predict…but still just as powerful and cunning?"

"Correct."

The game just got a helluva lot harder.

"Damn," the teen swore under his breath.

"My sentiments exactly."

The two wizards let their minds drift to their own thoughts about the future of this war. Harry absentmindedly picked up his sandwich and began to eat again, but he really didn't taste anything. How can he fight with an enemy that he couldn't predict?

"Maybe we will get lucky and Voldemort's insanity will lead to the destruction of his following like the fall of Rome."

Severus's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That is not the only factor that led to the fall of the Roman Empire."

"Having crazy rulers didn't help, though."

The Potion Master's lip twitched upward, "Indeed. How did you know—"

"Like I said, I have been reading…a lot."

"I see."

"You're wrong, you know."

Severus was not expecting that. He turned and looked at the green-eyed teen. "I beg your pardon?"

"Even though you aren't a spy anymore, you still have a purpose. You are a really good fighter."

Severus rolled his eyes, "Do you think that I can step on a battlefield now? Forget if I am ever able to truly walk again, I am sure that I would be killed on the spot as soon as a Death Eater or Voldemort saw me. Your encouragement is noted, Harry, but illogical."

"You'll get better. You're too much of a stubborn, old fool to let this get you down—"

"Why, you little—"

"And as for fighting, I bet you're in my club now."

Dark eyes were still narrowed from the comment Harry had made a moment ago, but he asked the question anyway. "What club is that, pray tell?"

"The club where Voldemort has ordered all his little minions to leave killing you to him and him alone. There aren't many members, but Albus did mention one time that he would make shirts or matching hats for all of us."

"You are joking."

"Nope. Though I hope it's the latter. I've seen some of the hats Dumbledore used to wear."

It had been light at first. A low sound that Harry almost missed, but seeing the Potion Master's shoulders shake slightly, he realized what the sound was.

Severus was laughing.

It was quiet and deep.

Nevertheless, it was there.

The teen felt a smile tug at his mouth. He was still worried something terrible about the war, as he was sure Severus was too. It was all becoming more and more complicated by the day, it seemed. However, Albus had said time and time again about spending time with friends and enjoying peaceful moments.

'Because who knows what's going to happen next,' Harry thought solemnly.

"Harry."

Green eyes blinked and turned back to Severus.

Harry wondered if Severus was thinking the same thing he was. His face was not as harsh as normal. "Madam Pomfrey administered my midday potions before you came. If you need to, you may take your leave and join your other friends."

"You don't need anything?"

"No."

"You don't need to…go anywhere?" the young wizard was too embarrassed to ask the more direct question.

Severus's face darkened minutely. "No," he said with tight lips, "Madame Pomfrey was not impressed with my mobile adventure to the lavatory and when I asked for her assistance again…she took care of it with a spell."

Harry tried not to let his jaw drop. "There's a spell for that?"

"Of course there is!"

Now, it was Harry's turn to laugh. His wasn't low and quiet like Severus's, though.

"Oh, yes, quite humorous," Severus said in a louder voice so that the teen could hear him. "My bladder was violated and you find it so funny."

"I'm sorry," Harry said as he wiped a tear away from his eye, "But I get this image of your face when that happened and—"

He succumbed to another bout of laughter.

"Very amusing." Severus replied dryly as he waited for the teen t recover from his little giggle-fit. "Are you quite done?"

Harry still had a large grin on his face and Severus felt himself staring at the mouth and the sparkling green eyes.

"Yea, I'm done." Harry said lightly, not noticing the man's distraction.

Severus cleared his throat and quickly picked up a book to hide the lapse he had just had. Whether from Harry or from himself, he wasn't sure. "Well, as I said before that overly exaggerated display of merriment you just exhibited, I am fine and do not require anything else. You can go join your friends."

The messy haired wizard thought about what he wanted to do. No doubt, he should be going back to look, once again, through the books to try and find something that would help them or solve the mystery of the white space and then spend his time with Ron and Hermione, who were probably still in the drawing room or, if Hermione had her way, they were in the library. Did he really want to go though? His two teenage friends would like the personal time together, plus, well, he was happy where he was.

"I think I'll just stay here." He leaned back to get more comfortable in the chair, showing he wasn't about to move.

"You do not have to stay on my account."

"Good," Harry said with a smile. "Read anything interesting while I was gone?"

Dark eyes narrowed in a challenge. "What if I said that I wanted you to leave?"

The teen shrugged. "Then I would leave. Are you asking me to leave?"

Silence.

"No."

"Then I'll stay."

Severus opened his mouth, as though about to argue the point further, then simply closed it, and gave a single nod of the head. With that little sign of acquiescence, Harry began to talk about the small conflict that had occurred with the Death Eater's that morning and Hermione's theory of why the battle had taken place, then began to ask Severus questions about the book he was reading. The Potions professor realized that he probably would not get a moment's peace for quite some time, but the conversation was infinitely better than the one with Pomfrey, and he was slightly happy for the fact that Harry was back in his chair.

Yes, only slightly.

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In the few days that followed, life at Grimmauld Place took up a routine. There had not been any more attacks, no doubt Voldemort and his followers were planning their next move, and the Order did not have any missions in the works as of yet, so the three teens and the recovering Potions professor spent their days mostly reading. Harry and Ron had a few mini dueling sessions in the house, but were stopped every time by a very annoyed Hermione or, worse yet, a very irate Kreacher. Harry would spend mealtimes and a few hours a day with Severus, either talking, eating, or simply reading. Severus had been slowly getting stronger and the trips to and from the loo were becoming easier and less taxing for the wizard.

Madame Pomfrey had been by once more for a visit, but since there was no emergency for the teens to run off to, the woman had only stayed a little while and the fact that he was getting up and walking around was never mentioned. Mrs. Weasley had been by to visit four times, Tonks had dropped by with a note from Kingsley, and Remus was due to come home from a mission in two days time. Albus had also been by to check on his Potions professor and to assure him that his classes were in excellent hands. Somehow, Severus highly doubted that. The rest of the headmaster's visit was not as pleasant. Harry, who had been there when the elderly wizard had arrived, was asked to leave for a moment so that the two older wizards could have a private conversation.

It wasn't until much later and through a lot of annoying that Severus finally revealed that the headmaster had given him a lecture about not telling him or anyone else about the danger his life was in. From the look on Severus's face, Harry guessed it must have been a doozie of a lecture.

It wasn't until one afternoon five days later that something happened.

Harry was sitting in the library with Ron and Hermione reading. Ron had started back his training with Kingsley and was reading one of his armament books, while Harry and Hermione were still on the hunt for information about the white space. Harry had just made it back from visiting Severus after lunch, having only left when the man said he wished to rest and had picked up one of the many books in the stack Hermione had set out and sat down on the floor by the low burning fire in the fireplace. The teens did not talk; the only real sound was every so often Hermione would scratch down a note or two on a piece of parchment.

It was a comfortable silence, one that can only be achieved with really close friends, but Harry found himself being lulled by the popping of the fire and the boring words on the pages of his book. Before he knew it, instead of sitting on the floor, he was laying on it, and though he tried to keep reading his book in this reclined position, his eyes began to droop shut. He shifted once or twice, trying to wake himself up. The green eyed, sleepy wizard then thought maybe he was getting too warm and pushed the sleeves up on his sweater. It was one of his older ones, though; the sleeves were stretched beyond hope and doomed to fall down his arms as soon as they were pushed up. He finally gave up, laid his book down on his chest, and closed his eyes.

"I think I've found something!"

Harry jumped at the loud exclamation in the quiet room and turned his wide, green eyes to the source of the commotion.

Hermione wasn't sitting in her chair anymore, but standing with the book she was reading held open and out at arm's length and a look of pure triumph on her face. Harry stole a glance at Ron to see he had been surprised by his girlfriend's outburst as well.

"What's going on Hermione?" Harry finally asked as he stood up and walked over to the witch, followed shortly by Ron.

"This is it! The white space! I think I have found it!"

"Really?" Ron asked in astonishment.

"Yes, really."

"Hey," Harry said as he read the spine of the book, "this is the book about wizarding meditation that Albus gave me."

"Yes it is. And on that note—" Hermione popped him in the back of the head.

"Ow! Hey, what was that for?"

"This should have been the first book you looked in!"

"Well, you didn't think of it either!" Harry rubbed the back of his head.

Hermione thought about that. "You're right. One of you pop me in the head. I should have thought of that. Come on!" She closed her eyes and braced herself for the hit.

Ron looked like he was about to do just that, but then put his hand back down, too scared about what would happen if he actually did.

After a few minutes of nothing happening, Hermione cracked an eye open. "Why are none of you hitting me?"

"We're too scared," Harry answered. Ron nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

"It's like when you're little and you're told by your mum that you can have a cookie, but you're too scared that you're still gonna be punished when you take the cookie," Ron then tried to explain.

Hermione gave a frustrated huff and opened her eyes.

"Tell us what you found," Harry said quickly, before he and Ron got into any sort of trouble by their brunette friend.

It seemed to do the trick, since Hermione instantly was back to being excited and looking at her place in the book. "Oh, yes, I think this is it, though it does not match up exactly, it makes the most sense since you were meditating when you went into the white space."

"So…what is it?" the redhead prompted.

"The white space is Harry's magical core…I think."

Harry blinked. "That's it?"

Hermione whipped her head around towards him. "What do you mean, 'That's it?!'"

"Well, I mean, it just seems so…I don't know. We were looking through all these crazy books and all this time it was just my magic. It just seems, well, sorta—"

"Lame," Ron finished for him.

"Ron!"

"What?" the redhead asked incredulously, taking a step back. "It's true! It shoulda been the time traveling one."

His girlfriend rolled her eyes in irritation. "Well, I for one am glad it's your magical core, Harry."

"Why?"

"Because, look here," she brought the book closer and began to quote from the passage, "'If a witch or wizard is in possession of a strong magical core, they may experience a phenomenon where they are able to enter into their magical center. This is extremely difficult to do, and can manifest itself in many different images and sensations, but if the feat is achieved, then the result can be anywhere from a better understanding of one's own body and magic to a full integration of magic, spirit, mind, and body, the latter being a true ascension of magic.'"

The young witch looked up from the book, smiling at the two boys, only for her face to fall at the blank look on both of their faces.

"Oh, come on guys! This is big!"

"That seems so vague though," Harry said as he picked the book up out of Hermione's hands gently and turned to look at the passage himself.

"Yea, this just sounds like a bunch of hookie. The time travel one had more of a matching description then that one," Ron said hopefully. He walked over and leaned over Harry's shoulder to also read the page in the book.

"It's not time travel, Ron," Hermione said in exasperation. "This may not have a great description, but now it gives us something more to go on. We have been looking at outside forces causing the white space. Now, we look for internal causes."

"Well," Harry said as he finished reading through the passage for the second time, "it's something to go on, and right now that's all we got. Are there books here that talk about magical cores?"

"I'm sure there is."

"Uhg," Ron groaned. "Do we have to? We have been reading forever!"

"You're over-exaggerating, Ron," Hermione said as she walked around the library, set to find the next book that would help them.

"Only a little bit. That's the bad part," the redhead grumbled as he walked over and sat back down in his chair.

Harry just grinned at his friend's comment and started to look around the shelves with Hermione. He was stopped, though, by the same witch he thought he was helping.

"Nope! You already have a book to read. You should have already read all of that book Dumbledore gave you," Hermione said when she saw him moving around the many books. She pushed him back towards the sitting area.

"But he just gave me the book for Christmas!"

"Exactly! It's been over a month! You should have had it read twice by now! How many pages have you read?"

"About…forty?"

Hermione pointed at the book that lay on one of the tables. "Go. Read. Now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Harry picked up the book and turned it back to the page that Hermione had been looking at.

"And no reading from the page I left off either! Start where you stopped!"

'Darn it.'

He heard Ron chuckling from his chair.

"Oh, shut it," he said half-heartedly as he took up his spot on the floor again and started to read.

That lasted about an hour or two more until Harry and Ron started having a paper airplane war, much to Hermione's chagrin.

"You two are five, I swear!"

Speaking of five.

Harry looked over at the clock. Sure enough, it was getting close to the time for Severus's afternoon potions and while Severus's arms had gotten strong enough to hold the vials on his own, Harry still went up there to make sure the professor did not need anything else.

It also was another chance for the two to talk.

"Well, not that this hasn't been a blast," he said as he stood up, "but I must go."

"Oh, yes. Tell Professor Snape we said hello!" Hermione said as she continued to walk around the shelves. She had yet to find any relevant books, but was not daunted.

"Hey, how come you get to get out of reading?" Ron said as he looked up from his book.

His girlfriend answered from behind one of the cases, "Because Kingsley is coming over tonight, you haven't read all of your assignment from him, and Harry needs to go take care of Professor Snape."

"You're welcome to come with me, Ron," Harry said with a smile. "I'm sure Severus would love to see you."

The red head visibly shuddered. "No thanks."

Harry gave a laugh, shrugged and walked to the large double doors; he decided to take his book with him to show Severus. "Your loss," he called back.

"You just go on thinking that, ya loony!" Ron hollered back as the doors closed.

Harry just laughed again and shook his head as he walked from the library to the stairs and on up to Severus's room. It was a path that he had walked so much that he swore he could do so in his sleep.

The door to the room was closed, something that Harry did not remember doing when he left at lunch, so he was hesitant to open the door. He pushed it open lightly to see that Severus was sleeping soundly; his book had slid off and was laying spread opened on the floor.

Harry carefully opened the door all of the way, praying that the old door didn't creak, and tip-toed into the room to pick up the book and set it back of the bedside table. He checked the time again. It was still a little while before he was suppose to take his potions, so Harry decided to let Severus sleep a little longer. The man seemed determined to move as much as possible in an effort to accelerate his rehabilitation and Harry knew he got tired trying to do everything that he did.

The teen looked back at the sleeping wizard. His brow was furrowed, as though he had fallen asleep thinking about something serious or he was in the middle of a dream. Harry reached down to the fallen blanket to better cover the man; though the room was heated with charms, the old house and cold weather made the spells wear off at sporadic times and the rooms would get drafty very quickly.

Harry had just started to pull the quilt up when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Harry gave a yelp of surprise, and then another as the same hand pulled him forward suddenly. The teen lost his balance and ended up sprawled in the bed along with the Potions Master, who had just actually woken up.

"Potter!—Harry! What in the hell are you doing?!"

Harry scrambled franticly to try to get up, it didn't help that Severus was also thrashing around in alarm.

Finally, Harry managed to get to the edge of the bed and fell over onto the floor, quickly standing as soon as he hit.

"Is this going to be a common occurrence, you clumsy fool?!" Severus said irately as he fixed the quilt and glared at the young teen.

"Sorry!" Harry said. He was really sick and tired of being embarrassed around Severus. Really, it needed to stop. "You were sleeping and I guess you were dreaming and you grabbed my arm and pulled and caught me by surprise and what in the world were you dreaming about anyway?"

Severus realized what must have happened and took a deep breath to control his anger. It really wasn't the teen's fault. Well, perhaps a little bit. The little brat needed to learn how to stay on his feet.

"I was having a dream about the night I was attacked."

Harry blinked. His embarrassment faded some as those words sank in. "Oh. I'm sorry I—"

"It is nothing to concern yourself with. It was merely a dream. I sincerely hope that you never wake me in such a manner ever again, though."

"Trust me, I do, too…" Harry said as he brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck as he finally felt the red in his cheeks going away.

Severus looked at the flustered teen, deciding that he should spare him, though he was not quite sure why. "I take it that it is time for my afternoon potions, correct?"

Harry seemed confused for a minute, and then his eyes widened as he too remembered why he had came up there. "Oh! Yes, yes it is. Here," he said as he handed over the necessary potions. He didn't even need the color codex anymore. He just knew.

The teen watched as the Potions Master dutifully drank down each of the potions—his hand only shaking slightly—before handing the empty bottles back to the boy. Harry set the last of the vials back onto the table and took his chair as he had the previous days, the familiar actions helping to erase the humiliation of landing on top of the man in a bed.

"Do you—uh—want to talk about the dream?"

Severus thought for a moment. "No."

"Oh." Harry looked down at his feet. They seemed to be moving on their own in a little shuffle pattern.

He looked over at the bedside table at the vials and books.

That's when he remembered his book.

"Oh!" He reached over and grabbed the volume. "We think we found something out about the white space." He opened the book back to the page Hermione had found and handed it over to Severus, who took it and immediately began to read. "Well, Hermione is the one that found it and thinks this is it. I'm still not sure and Ron's still holding out hopes that it has something to do with time travel."

"Mr. Weasley is an idiot." Severus was only halfway listening. He was too absorbed in reading the part of the book that obviously was what Harry was talking about.

So, the boy could access his magical core.

"Severus?"

The somber man looked up from the passage to the green-eyed teen.

"What do you think?" the young man asked in earnest. He really did want to know what Severus thought about this whole thing.

What did he think?

He thought that if this were true, then he would have to admit that the meditation was actually a good idea.

"This…could actually work."

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Thanks so for reading chapter 9!

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Teasers for next chapter:

--I never like it when your eyes twinkle.

--You stink. You need a bath.

--Well, isssssn't thissss interessssting…

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Reviews are loved!!!


	11. Rub a Dub Dub, a Potion Master in a Tub

**A/N: **Evan Hunter, a prolific American author and screenwriter, once said, "Readers are what it's all about, aren't they? If not, why am I writing?" Authors can sit there and tell you till the cows come home that they write for themselves and themselves only. That may be true, but readers are really nice. Face it, we want to tell a story and we want someone to listen to that story. So to you, my dear readers who reviewed and added me t your alerts and favorites list, thank you.

Give me a B! Give me an E! Give me a T! Give me an A! What does that spell?  
**Invader Shawn!  
**...No it doesn't….  
Oh. Well, I never was a cheerleader…I was a twirler…  
**Invader Sawn** was awesome and beta-ed this chapter. Be nice to her, people, she puts up with me and my wordiness. Lol…

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Chapter 10: Rub a Dub Dub, a Potion Master in a Tub

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_It's just a bath, Severus. – Harry Potter_

Let it be known throughout the land, from sea to sea, and in all native tongues, that rehabilitation is, has been, and forever will be one of the most difficult things for a person to do.

At least, that was Severus Snape's opinion at the present moment.

And that is good enough for now.

It had become far too vexing for Severus to stay in bed all day, only to venture out when Harry assisted him to the lavatory. It got old. Fast. When he could not stand it any longer, he announced that he would be taking his recovery into his own hands and enlisted Harry to be his accomplice in this transgression. Such words were appropriate, because if Severus were caught doing this by Madame Pomfrey, there would be hell to pay. The Medi-Witch was still of the opinion that Severus remain on bed rest for at least another week, possibly two, before he even thought about starting to walk again. She had even taught Harry the spell to take care of any bathroom necessities Severus might have.

The teen had surprisingly kept a straight face while the Healer was present, but as soon as the elderly woman left, the boy had fallen to the floor in a fit of giggles.

Severus was not impressed by the teen's antics.

He was moderately appeased, however, when Harry stood and then asked if Severus was ready to walk to the loo.

So there. They were already going against orders. Why not just push it a little further?

If anything, it is always better to seek forgiveness than permission.

'Or however the blasted saying goes.'

There was only one thing that had to be done first.

Severus had to get his own clothes.

He had been in Harry's pajamas for far too long. It had been fine for the quick trips out of the room, since they had not encountered any of the other residents of Grimauld Place. If they were to be out longer, their chance of running into Granger or Weasley increased exponentially.

Harry had thought of asking Dobby to fetch some sleepwear clothes from the Potions Master's rooms at Hogwarts; an idea that had merit, but Severus was not eager to have the house elf rummaging through his things. He had seen what the freed Malfoy elf wore. No telling what he would bring back from his wardrobe.

Dobby exceeded expectation by bringing three sets of pajama pants and their matching tops for the professor to wear.

For some unknown reason, Harry had thought it humorous that all of the outfits were black.

Now that Severus was dressed properly, they could begin.

And begin they did.

It was now the third day of the rehabilitation process, and while Severus may not look like a buffoon because of what he was wearing, he thought he looked the utter fool for something completely different.

His brain was telling his legs to move accordingly, but the appendages seemed to have other ideas. Severus cursed under his breath at the thought that he must look like a newborn with the way his legs were shaking and wobbling as he walked back and forth down the hallway of the first story landing. Harry was only a few steps away, ready to swoop in and catch him should his traitorous legs decide to give out altogether, but the teen's worried look did not help Severus' feeling of vulnerability and unease at the present moment.

"Stop hovering!" he complained as he took another shaky step.

"I'm not hovering!" Harry countered. "The last time you told me to back off and I did, you almost fell. Then you criticized me for ten minutes about not doing my nursemaid duties."

"That was different."

"How?"

"Are you going to argue with me, or are you going to make sure that I am not impeded by one of the many rugs that seemed to be strewn about this floor?"

"You need to lift you feet more." The messy haired head was looking down at the Potions Master's feet.

"I am walking, am I not?"

"More like baby steps, really."

"You little—" Severus twisted to the side to thoroughly reprimand the boy. He was a grown man. A Potions Master. He did not take 'baby steps.' He doubted he even took baby steps when he was a baby.

The resulting twisting motion, however, caused what little hard-earned balance Severus had to completely leave him; his unreliable legs gave out from under him. He swayed precariously back, and then lurched forward in an effort to remain standing.

It didn't work.

Harry saw Severus falling forward and quickly stepped up to catch the taller man under his arms before he hit the ground. The teen took on a bracing stance, but still had to take a step back in order to stabilize himself and hold up the entire weight of the Potions Master at the same time. His knees sagged, but he stayed standing.

Severus was actually quite heavy.

In the end, Harry wound up nearly nose-to-nose with the Severus, looking him dead in the eye.

He sucked in his breath.

"I've got you," the messy haired wizard said quietly. His face heating because of the proximity.

"I am aware," Severus answered back. He was not sure why he was whispering too.

Harry blinked, then cleared his throat and carefully lifted and pushed on the older wizard, effectively righting the man back on his feet. He kept his hands under Severus's arms, however, to ensure that the man continued to stay upright. "Do you want help walking back to your room?"

Severus wondered just when the makeshift hospital room became 'his room.'

"Who said I am done?"

"Well, I thought—"

"Hmm. Yes, that is something that tends to lead to error with you. This is not even a setback. I can assure you that I am still fully capable of mobility. We shall stop when I say we stop."

Severus then moved to take a few steps and pushed Harry's hands out of the way.

He made it two more steps before his knees began to shake horribly. Before his legs gave out again, Severus felt his right arm being lifted up and quickly secured across the shorter wizard's shoulders and around his neck. One hand stayed securely wrapped around Severus's wrist, while the other came to the small of the taller man's back, eliminating the threat of another fall. Severus huffed, but leaned his weight against the boy to make his knees stop their blasted wobble. He looked down at his human crutch to see Harry with a small smile on his face. It wasn't his normal smirk that he sported when he found something humorous. Just a smile.

Severus wondered what was causing it.

"I suppose we are finished," the dark eyed wizard said after some time.

"Thought you might say that," Harry replied, his smile growing slightly. "Come on. Let's getcha back."

The two had only managed to take a few well-choreographed steps before they stopped at the sound of someone ascending the staircase a few meters away. Harry desperately hoped that it was either Ron or Hermione. The two knew somewhat about the rehabilitation Severus was doing and tended to stay out of the way, though that did not mean that occasionally they would pass by on their way upstairs. Yes, that was it. It was Ron or Hermione.

He really hoped it wasn't Madame Pomfrey.

The steps grew louder and louder until the person attached to those steps came into view behind the banister.

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief as Albus walked the final few steps to the top of the floor. He smirked as he heard Severus sigh as well.

Very quietly.

Albus turned his blue eyes to the pair in the hallway and both wizards noticed that the twinkle in them seemed to intensify. Harry looked at the elderly wizard's robes to try and gauge what kind of news the headmaster brought with him. Deep purple. That was a tough one. They were not necessarily dull, but they weren't bright either. Perhaps today was neither a bad nor a good day.

Harry wondered if everyone did that. Picked colors based on their moods. Maybe not a conscious thing, but something one did without ever realizing it. If that were true, then Severus, with his affinity for black, was always in a terrible mood.

'Hmm, that isn't too far off,' Harry thought as he watched the two older wizards begin to talk to one another.

He wondered what his color choices said about his mood and looked down at his baggy, red sweater. Harry had thought he had chosen the sweater that morning because it was clean and at the top of his drawer, but now he wasn't so sure. Before he had a chance to grapple out why his subconscious had decided to pick the sweater, he heard Albus say his name, bringing him out of his introspection.

"I say, Harry, you have been doing a remarkable job with Severus here."

The teen could practically feel the Potions Master roll his eyes. He hid his grin. "Thank you, sir."

A silver eyebrow rose slightly.

"Albus," Harry corrected himself.

The eyebrow went down and the man smiled, "I understand that you have taken to your caretaker duties, but might I borrow your patient for a moment?"

"I am not a thing!" Severus said, provoked by the tease. He attempted to stand up to full height, but began to shake again. He felt the hand at his arm tighten and the hand at his back moved around to his side to keep him vertical.

It is very hard to look intimidating when the only reason you are standing is a teenage boy holding onto you.

"And I was alluding to nothing of the sort," Albus said with a chuckle in an effort to cajole the easily offended professor. "I merely wanted to have a chat with you and figured young Harry here would want the break for a little while."

Severus was about to argue further, on what he was not sure, when Harry spoke up to his right.

"Well, if Severus doesn't mind, I need to get supper ready anyway."

Two sets of eyes turned towards Severus then; one green, the other blue. As if it were really up to him.

"Yes, fine. Only because I am hungry and there is no way I shall suffer through Mr. Weasley's cooking again."

Harry gave a small laugh and adjusted his arms to keep his grip. "Shall I walk you back then?"

"Oh now, there is no need for that," Albus interjected, stepping up to the pair. "I am sure that I can assist Severus back to the room."

The silver-bearded wizard stepped up right in front of Severus and, together with Harry, proceeded trading spots with the young wizard. Severus was jostled to and fro in the action and cursed audibly at the manhandling. Both of his helpers simply ignored him, and eventually, success was achieved with Albus supporting Severus and Harry standing in front of them. Severus shifted slightly. The height difference from Harry to Albus also meant a difference in balance. Severus did not like the change too much.

Harry stood there, looking at the two men who had taught him more than anyone else had in the wizarding world. "Well….You kids have fun now."

The green-eyed teen quickly turned and left down the stairs when he started to hear Severus growl. He had better make sure that whatever he made for dinner would easily come out of his clothes should the Potions Master decide to throw anything at him.

Severus watched the blasted brat escape down the stairs before he could be reprimanded. 'Kids,' indeed. He heard Dumbledore chuckling beside him and cringed in. This had to be a level of Hades. Forget rivers of boiling blood. Forget being frozen solid in ice. Dante had it all wrong. Being surrounded by a bunch of Gryffindors was much, much worse by far. Severus's dark humor supplied the thought that perhaps this was his hell. That the Lestranges had, in fact, killed him, and because of his sins against the world, he was forever to stay in the house of one of his childhood rivals and be surrounded by nothing but Gryffindors for eternity.

Yes, that was it.

This was hell.

"Are you going to just stand there and laugh, or are you going to take me back to my room?"

"Can't it be both?" Albus asked, but he began to walk anyway and guide Severus back to the grey guest room. "By the way, does Poppy know that you are out of bed this much?"

Severus kept his eyes forward as he walked, no matter how much he wanted to turn his head and properly berate the man for wasting his time. Instead, he settled for, "Are you going to simply make jokes, or are you going to tell me why you came?"

"My, my, my," Albus said lightly as they entered into the small room. "You seem to be in high spirits today."

Severus sighed. Dumbledore set him gently onto the bed, allowing the Potions Master to shift and adjust himself until he was back to lying down against the mound of pillows he used to prop himself up. Harry had had to get pillows from all over the house to accommodate to Severus's wish and to keep him from falling over. The result was nothing short of a nest of pillows.

When Severus finally situated himself accordingly, he turned his head to see Albus sitting down in Harry's chair. He pursed his lips together in annoyance. "Well?"

Blue eyes looked at him innocently. "Well, what?"

"Oh, for the love of—"

"Now, calm yourself, Severus. Let an old man have a little fun now and again. With this war, I think we can all use a little merriment from time to time. Wouldn't you agree?"

A noncommittal grunt was all he got in reply.

"I knew you would agree. Ah, but I really should be getting to the point of my visit, shouldn't I?"

"No. By all means, continue with your usual banter."

"I certainly hope Harry appreciates your sarcasm, Severus."

"As though I care what the brat thinks."

"Hmmm. Yes, of course you don't. Anyway, I am here to make another inquiry as to your health, though, from what I can see, you seem to be doing quite well. Are you feeling better?"

"Adequate."

"Ready to get back to teaching Potions?"

"Oh yes. I miss the little monsters that dare call themselves students. You did not come all this way to simply ask if I am ready to get back to teaching."

It was not a question.

Dumbledore turned his head away from Severus then, and the younger man instantly knew that while the reasoning that brought the Headmaster here to visit him was not dire or urgent, it was serious nonetheless. The silver bearded wizard's eyes lost their twinkle ever so slightly. Moreover, he seemed to haunch over just a tad, as though a weight were put on him. Severus braced himself for whatever the man was about to say.

"I am wondering what you will do when you finally do recover, Severus," Albus finally replied.

"What do you mean? Are you referring to teaching, because—"

"No, no. Not with that. I am referring to what you will do in this war."

Severus was still unsure what the other man was talking about, but instead of voicing his confusion again, he merely raised a dark eyebrow in question. He had worked with Dumbledore long enough to where he knew the older wizard knew what his unasked—and possibly snarky—question was.

"Will you continue to fight?"

The other eyebrow on Severus's face joined the other higher up on Severus's forehead. "You ask as though I have a choice."

"You have always had a choice, Severus."

The younger man snorted.

Of course he did.

And everything is made of gumdrops and it rains sugar water.

Severus did not have a choice.

To think so would be living in La La Land.

"You know as well as I do that I do not have a choice. My life has been out of my control the moment I signed it away to that monster of a man and even more so when I signed it away to you, as well," he said as he turned his attention away from the headmaster to look over at a small, dark portrait of some long-forgotten Black ancestor that hung on the opposite end of the room.

"You could always seek refuge away from the country, as Mrs. Malfoy and young Draco have done."

Severus snorted at that. "Oh yes, because Voldemort would simply give up looking for me and allow me to live my life in peace. As though I could actually run away and live my life in peace, knowing what is going on back here. No. There is no choice to this. If—and I do not use the term loosely—and only if I am able to return to optimal health where I would not be a hindrance, then I will fight."

"For our side?"

"No. For the Giants. Of course for our side! I do not think that I would get the most pleasant of welcomes if I strolled back up to the Death Eaters and asked to rejoin their ranks," Severus bit out as he turned his head back to look at the elderly headmaster.

Albus shook his head. "I was merely trying to gauge your commitment. It will not be easy."

"It never is."

"I will need your help once again when you are well."

"With what? I can no longer spy."

"Not with spying, my dear boy. With Harry."

Severus remained silent for a few moments. "I will continue to train the boy in dueling."

"That is not what I quite meant either."

Albus was beating around the bush.

Severus hated when someone did that.

He was more of a chop-the-bush-down-and-then-walk-over-it kind of fellow.

"Then what, Albus?"

Dumbledore took a deep breath, as though gathering his thoughts. "Harry may not know it, and in fact, I am sure he doesn't, but he is in even more danger now than ever. He has told me about the theory about being able to access his magic through his meditation. While I am pleased with that idea, I am concerned that this new development will make Harry even more of a target."

"Albus, the boy is a walking target. Any more so and you might as well tattoo a giant bull's-eye on him," Severus said in his most deadpanned manner.

The headmaster chuckled, "You know, you may be right, but he will need someone to watch his back. I know that Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley are there to help him, but they must also worry about themselves…and each other."

"And you are hoping that I will once again agree to protect the boy?"

"Something like that. Again, you have a choice. I could easily find another of the Order members to take on the job. Remus certainly would."

At that thought, Severus immediately bristled. While he knew that the wolf would readily agree to watch over Harry during battles, something in Severus's mind could not accept that fact. Not at all.

"Lupin is constantly away right now trying to keep the peace with the other werewolves. He could not possibly do that."

"Oh, he would easily come back for that," Albus offered calmly. "He goes out there because he knows that his missions are for the greater good of the war, not unlike you were with spying. If I were to ask, especially for Harry's sake, Remus would cease his mission and come back to—"

"That will not be necessary."

"Oh?"

"I shall…look after the boy during battles."

"Oh?"

"I never like it when your eyes twinkle."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Albus replied. He was almost believable, except for the tell-tale smirk and the sudden interest in his left pocket as he fished about for something. "Lemon drop?"

'Meddling, geriatric crackpot.'

"No, I do not want a blasted candy…. And yes, I will look after Harry during the battles. I am, after all, the best versed in the ways of the Death Eaters. I know their fighting styles the best. It is only logical."

"That was my reasoning as well," Albus said happily, he popped the candy into his mouth, "but it is not only the Death Eaters and Voldemort that Harry will have to worry about."

"How so?"

"The wizarding public has become overly excited over the ultimatum."

"They are still obsessing over that?"

"During times like this, focus of the people can be quite misplaced. The Death Eaters might have retreated slightly in their attacks, but their presence is still quite oppressive and the public still believes that Harry's surrender will ensure their safely. Some are going so far as to call for his death."

"What?!" Severus felt a rush of anger well up in him with such intensity that it was almost painful. How dare they? All of them—any of them? Harry might be a clumsy oaf at times, but the boy was doing all this for the wizarding world. For these ingrates who were now calling for his death. Severus' mind was working a mile a minute. He knew there was no way he could feasibly seek revenge on the entire wizarding world, but that would not stop him from imagining many interesting scenarios.

"Severus?" Albus called out to the younger man. He could tell the Potions Master was off in his own thoughts. He tried again. "Severus?"

Dark eyes finally focused back on the wizard in the chair. The Potions Master realized that he had been daydreaming and quickly thought of a plan to cover up the fact.

"So, what do you suggest about be done about this?"

All right, so that was not the greatest of plans, but it got the conversation going again and Albus did not press the issue, so Severus could pretend that he had not been doing such a ridiculous thing as conjuring up a fantasy world. Even if those fantasies were where he was exacting retribution from all the ungrateful wizards and witches out there. Dark or not, daydreaming was a waste of time and something Severus did not subscribe to.

"Nothing can be done really about it," was Albus's answer the Severus's question. "Harry does not go out of the house already, so it is not as though he will need a chaperone. However, if a battle was to occur in the wizarding world and some civilians were to get the wrong idea…well, Harry already has a lot to deal with."

"You think that some vigilante wizards may try to take the boy out themselves?"

"Precisely. While I know Harry is more than capable of handling these things, I fear that until he is able to fully control whatever power he possesses that these compounding threats may prove to be overwhelming for him. I also know that no matter what the public says about him, Harry would never be able to attack whom he considered to be an innocent person."

Severus nodded slowly. No, Harry could not.

But he certainly could.

He felt his mouth form into a slightly evil smirk. He almost hoped that some inane vigilante wizards did try to attack Harry. Could be quite fun.

Albus chuckled at the smirk. "I thought you may see things that way. Think of it as more incentive to make a complete recovery."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You stink."

Severus's head popped up from his book in confusion and looked over at the teen sitting in the chair. They had just finished with another ambulatory session in the hallway and were currently resting. Well, Severus was resting. Harry was simply staying there for the company. The older wizard regarded his younger companion.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You stink. You need a bath."

"A…bath."

"Yes, a bath," Harry repeated. The teen fully closed his book and placed it onto the nightstand. "You know, they fill a tub with water and you sit in it in order to get clean. Surely you've heard of it?"

Dark eyes narrowed. Severus was not about to have the teen smart off to him. "I am well aware what a bath is, Potter." He saw the boy wince and groaned internally. "I will simply cast a cleaning charm, Harry. I have done so every day now and will continue to—"

The Potions Master was reaching for his wand, but his hand was stopped. He looked up into green eyes.

Harry took a deep breath. He knew this was not going to be an easy thing, but it needed to be done. "Severus, that spell can only do so much. Now that you have been walking more…well…you stink."

"You have said that."

"And it's true. Listen, a nice warm bath might help. You never know. All I know is, you smell and your hair is really greasy. I feel sorry for the pillows."

"Why you—"

"It's just a bath, Severus," Harry interrupted in exasperation.

He could live with the smell. He had smelled fouler things at the Dursley's house for sure, but he had noticed that the man had become increasingly irritated as the days went by and while the man was usually quite unhappy about most things, Harry was running out of reasons for the man's disposition. Mrs. Weasley always said the best thing for relaxation was a bath, so why not give it a try? What could it hurt?

"And what are you proposing, Harry?" Severus asked with a sneer. "That you bathe me?"

The messy haired teen set his jaw in determination, even as his cheeks colored. "Yes."

Severus' eyes narrowed further. The boy was bluffing. He had seen how easily embarrassed Harry got over the littlest of things. Hell, the boy was blushing like a tomato now. The older wizard did not think for one minute that his young caretaker would or even could go through with this crazy idea.

He would just have to call the Gryffindor's bluff.

He leaned back a little and crossed his arms. "Fine."

Harry's eyebrows rose up to disappear into his messy hair. He didn't think it would be this easy. "Say what?"

Severus smirked, already assuming he had won. "I said, that is fine. Since you seem so eager, then I will take a bath."

This time, it was Harry's turn to narrow his eyes. He had a feeling that Severus was not actually acceding to the idea to a bath. Quite the opposite. The light finally came on in Harry's mind. Severus thought he would back out.

Well, two can play at that game.

He hadn't been sorted into his the house of Gryffindor for nothing.

He stood up and pushed up the sleeves to his pullover. "All right then. Let's go!"

"What?" Severus said as his eyes widened infinitesimally.

"I said, let's go. You said it was okay to get a bath, and that is exactly what we are going to do: Get you a bath."

Fine.

"Fine!" Severus began to get up, getting help from the teen along the way.

The battle of wills was on.

Now, it was only a matter of who would cave.

They walked down the hallway to the loo in total silence, both steeling their nerves so that they were not the first to admit defeat. Severus walked some of the way, but he was still taxed from his earlier efforts and needed to rely on his younger companion in order to make it to the bathtub.

Both men stared at the ominous, white tub as though it were about to stand up and attack them.

"Okay then," Harry finally broke the silence. "Let's get you ready." He slowly moved the taller man over to the toilet, lowering the lid and then lowering Severus onto the seat.

After that, he turned back to the tub and turned the faucets on to get the water going.

Severus just sat there is silence.

The boy was not backing down. Was he really about to let a former student see him naked? No. Harry would back out. He had to.

Right?

Instantly, Severus felt very self-conscious and hated himself for it. He knew he was not what people nowadays called a 'looker,' but he thought he had come to terms with that. He did not care what others thought of him usually. Now though, with the thought of Harry seeing him in such a—quite literally—exposed moment, made him uncomfortable in a way he had not been since his school days. He tried to get control over his emotions as he watched the teen adjust the taps to the right temperature and plug up the tub to fill with water.

Harry stood and hoped that his face wasn't too red. He was supposed to be taking care of Severus. This was part of it. He turned to look at the man sitting on the loo. He was a little bit relieved to see that the potions professor looked marginally nervous as well.

He could do this.

"Ready?"

"Do I look ready?" Severus snapped, thought there wasn't much heat. He crossed his arms tight to his chest. "Or are you wanting me to bathe in my pajamas."

"Oh," Harry said as he rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe he couldn't do this. "Right." He took a step towards the Potion's Master. "Do you need help or—"

"I am not an invalid! Simply help me stand and I will undress myself!"

Yea, okay. He could do that.

He moved over to helped the man stand, then turned around to face the other direction to give the man some privacy.

Severus rolled his eyes as the younger man turned, but did not comment about it. He reached up to begin to unbutton his black nightshirt. He got halfway down the row when his hand began to shake too much. 'Damn it. Why did Harry suggest this after I did my walking?'

He would never be able to fully undress. He was too tired. Too weak. He…he would have to ask for help.

"Your timing for this endeavor is deplorable. Such as I am, I am unable to do this without some form of assistance."

"You…" Harry turned to look at Severus, trying not to look at the man's partly exposed chest, "You need my help?"

There was a few beat pause in the small room.

"Yes."

Both men stood frozen.

Severus figured this would finally be when the younger man backed out. Harry looked like he were about to fall down more than himself, and he could not really walk. He saw the boy's Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed nervously. He had won this little game of chicken.

"Right then," Harry said resolutely and stepped up to Severus to finish with the last of the buttons.

'Or perhaps I have spoken too soon,' Severus thought as he looked down at the shorter man that was undoing the last button.

Harry tried to remain focused to the task at hand. Not on the fact that this was the first time he was undressing another human being before. He wondered why he wasn't bothered by the fact that it was another male that he was undressing, but more for the fact that Severus was his teacher and new friend. Perhaps it was the same as the quidditch showers or living in the dorms. He had seen boys naked there and it didn't affect him. This was no different. He brought his hands up to take the loosened shirt off Severus's shoulders and down his arms, letting it pool on the floor.

This wasn't like the dorms or quidditch at all.

And it most certainly was affecting him.

'No! Must stop having confusing thoughts right now. I am his caretaker. I'm not suppose to ogle him….Why am I ogling him in the first place?! Stop it, Potter, you are going to make a complete arse of yourself. Just got to get his pants off…no big deal….shit.' Harry brought his lower lip between his teeth and then, cursing the slight shake to his hands, began to untie the drawstring on the Potions Master's pajama bottoms.

This whole time, Severus was watching. Watching as smaller hands went up to the tie of his pants. He quietly sucked in a breath as he realized his body was responding to all of this.

'No, no, no, no, no! This cannot be happening. Think of something, for gods' sakes. Minerva in a bikini…Albus in drag…that oaf Hagrid, naked…'

Severus shuddered internally, but congratulated himself at the same time for warding off most certain humiliation.

'Why had my body reacted that way? Harry is over twenty years my junior and a very straight young boy. He would probably run from the room screaming if he were to witness me in such a state. It was simply an involuntary reaction. That is all.'

Harry finally managed to untangle the knot of the string and loosen it enough to where the bottoms fell down Severus's slim legs to puddle on the floor with his shirt.

"Oh!" Harry gasped and stepped back, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. Snape had the pajama pants and only the pajama pants to cover him. "You're not—"

"Your little house elf did not bring a change of proper undergarments," Severus stated succinctly. Watching the young boy flush and dart his eyes from the floor to him was causing another one of those involuntary reactions to occure and he was fighting with all he could to keep it from getting out of hand.

"Right—uh—right," Harry stuttered out, then snapped his mouth shut and inhaled through his nose. He turned around and shut off the taps. "Okay, let's get you in the water."

He walked up to the Potions Master's side and took his arm as he had done on several occasions in the past. This time, though, instead of grabbing fabric, he was met with surprisingly warm skin. The few steps to the bathtub's edge was no problem, but actually getting Severus into the bath proved most challenging and in the end, Severus was sitting in the tub and Harry's sweater was soaking wet.

"Fantastic," the teen said dryly as he stood and turned to take the sweater off. He was thankful that he had worn layers today. He could handle his t-shirt being a little damp. He turned back around after tossing the sweater in the ever-growing pile of clothes and found himself not as nervous now that Severus was actually in the bath.

'There. Easy.'

Harry stepped back up to the tubs edge. "Do you want some bubble bath?"

"No, I do not want any bloody bubble bath!" Severus said with his best glare.

"Well, aren't you just a water person." Harry was feeling much better. Joking about this seemed to be helping. He reached over to the side of the tub and grabbed a hand towel. He brought his wand out of its holder and with a mutter and a swish, turned the towel into a cup.

He was on a mission.

The green eyed teen dipped the cup in the water and brought it up to Severus's hair. Without asking he tilted the Potions Master's head back and let the water run down the greasy hair.

"What in the name of Salazar do you think you are doing!?" Severus nearly yelled in surprise.

"Washing your hair," Harry replied as he repeated the motion with the cup a few more times until the older man's longer hair was completely wet.

"You do not have to wash my hair. I am not a child."

"You can't lift your arms above your shoulders. You can't wash your hair, I can, and you need it."

Harry grabbed the bottle of shampoo and squeezed out a good-sized dollop into his palm. After setting the bottle back down, he rubbed his hands together a few times before working the bath product into Severus' scalp. Soon, there was a good lather and Severus's black hair disappeared in the white foam. Harry continued to work in the shampoo and wondered what the Potions professor would look like with clean hair.

"Do you ever wash your hair?"

"It is unnecessary. Water removes enough contaminates. If it comes into contact with any ingredients or anything of that nature, then there is a potion that will strip the hair completely."

Harry just smiled, shook his head, and continued wash the older wizard's hair.

Severus reluctantly admitted, though only in his most secret of thoughts, that the having someone wash his hair was actually quite…

…nice.

Finally, Harry picked up the cup and began the slow process of rinsing the lather out, careful not to get any in Severus' eyes. When that was finished, he sat down on the floor and leaned against the tub.

"I'm sure you want to be the one to wash the rest of you?" the teen asked as he looked into Severus' dark eyes. He felt that damnable blush return at the thought of washing the rest of Severus' body.

The Potions Master seemed more subdued. Harry noticed that there was a slight hint of pink on the man's usually pale face. "I should be able to handle that," he replied as he picked up the bar of soap. Harry reached over and handed him a washcloth. "Though, you may have to assist with my back."

Messy, black locks shook as Harry nodded his head. "Gotcha."

The two fell into a somewhat easy silence; the only sound that of the water moving about as Severus bathed. Harry looked around the bathroom, his thoughts drifting off to this and that. Pondering about what seemed to be going on in his life nowadays. He looked back over at his friend. It still felt so weird for him to think of Severus as his friend sometimes. But it seemed to be working out quite well. Maybe a little confusing at times, but quite well just the same.

He grabbed another washcloth and his wand to transfigure the flannel into a rubber duck. He sat up on his knees and placed the small, yellow toy in the water.

"What," Severus said as he looked down at the thing, "is that?"

Harry looked up at Severus's face. The man really needed to loosen up sometimes. After all, this was definitely one of those things that they were going to look back on and laugh. Well, at least Harry would anyway. Maybe, one day, Severus would as well. Well, maybe not laugh, but—

Oh, never mind.

"It's a rubber duck."

"Why is this aquatic plaything in the water with me?" Severus asked as he continued to stare the unassuming trinket down.

Harry couldn't decide if the man was afraid it was going to attack him, or if he thought that if he stared at it hard enough, it would go away.

The green-eyed teen gave a small smile as he shrugged. "You look like a person who never had a rubber duck before."

"I highly doubt that there is an actual look to a person who has never had such a thing."

"Still. Have you ever had one?"

Severus was silent for a moment. "No."

"Well," Harry said as he reached out and over to push the rubber duck with his finger, watching the small toy float in the now soapy water, "now you do." He brought his hand back to his side. This time, when he looked at Severus he was staring right into the man's dark eyes.

Severus regarded him in his usual, serious manner for a few moments, then brought his washcloth up and began cleaning his arms.

The rubber duck stayed.

When the bath was finally over, it was another series of complicated movements to get Severus out of the tub. In fact, it was even more difficult since the man was wet and quite slippery. Harry's shirt ended up completely soaked by the time it was all said and done.

Once more, Harry's eyes fought to look anywhere but at his naked ex-professor's lower half, instead, focusing on the man's face. "Do you need—I mean—uh—do you need me to dry you off?" he asked as he handed the man a towel.

"You are a wizard, Harry. There are drying spells."

"Oh, yea…"

'Why didn't I think of that?'

A few spells later, the taller wizard was completely dry, and a new set of pajamas was accioed into the small bathroom. Harry set to work putting the man's shirt, fixing all the small buttons, but he faltered when he got to the pants.

"Uh…"

Severus instantly realized the dilemma.

No.

No way.

"I can do that," he said as he reached out his hand. He was convincing until he swayed slightly.

Harry shook his head. "You'll fall."

The teen opened out the pants and knelt down in front of the Potions Master.

'Don't look. Don't look. Don't look. Don't look,' Harry thought franticly as Severus carefully stepped into both legs of the pants, using the sink for balance.

Harry did not see it, but Severus's eyes had widened to near comic level as soon as the green eyed wizard knelt down.

'Oh, God. Do not react. Do not react. Do not react. After you add newt's tale, stir three times counterclockwise. Then, add chopped nightshade—'

No matter what he thought, though, he could not keep his treacherous body from responding as Harry stood slowly, bringing the pants up with him. He flinched in embarrassment, but hoped that since the young wizard had very quickly brought the waistband up and over his hips that the teen was none the wiser. From Harry's reaction, with his face reddening even further—making him almost purple—and the shaking hands as he tied the drawstring, Severus had a feeling that that his hope was all for not.

Harry stepped back quickly when he was done and turned to drain the tub, trying to calm down. Why had Severus reacted like that? While he hadn't wanted to look, it was really difficult to miss—well—that. What addled Harry was that he found his own body reciprocating the action and wasn't that new and scary.

Did Severus see?

Could he tell?

What was going on?

He picked up the small rubber duck from the rapidly disappearing water and set him on the edge of the bathtub. Finally, he thought he had composed himself enough to turn around and face Severus.

"Ready, uh, ready to go?"

"That would be for the best."

"Right."

Perhaps if they pretend that it never happened, then eventually it would be like it never did.

That usually works.

Right?

"Harry?" Severus asked as they walked down the hallway, the teen once again aiding the taller wizard in the endeavor.

"Yea?"

"Mention the rubber duck to anyone, and I will kill you."

"Gotcha."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry really needed to meditate.

Hermione had told him that he needed to do so to see if he could access the white space again, but because of all that had been going on recently, he hadn't gotten the chance. Now though, even if Hermione hadn't told him, even if he never saw the white space again, he would still be meditating. He needed to clear his head. Desperately.

He had thought ignoring what had happened with Severus and the bath would just go away.

Well, it hadn't.

He was still highly confused and didn't know what to do about it. He was not about to talk to Hermione or Ron, some because he was worried how they would react and also because, well, that would be a really awkward conversation that he just wanted to avoid. Discussing this with any adult also seemed like a very bad idea. He had thought perhaps Remus might have been his best bet, but considering the history between the once Marauder and the Potions Master, Harry did not see a conversation like the one they would have ending too well.

He seemed to be alone in this with way too many thoughts running around in his head, causing havoc.

His cranium needed a cleaning.

So here he was, in the corner of the library, trying to get back into the right mindset. He had planned it all out this time. He had worn comfortable clothing, some of his oldest jeans and a lightweight blue t-shirt that was thinned with age. Ron and Hermione had been informed what he was doing and Hermione had assured him that she would keep Ron away from the library if and when the redhead forgot. Severus had just had his supper and potions and was not expecting him again for a few hours.

He was set.

Green eyes drifted shut and Harry let his mind clear out. Soon, the snitch was ahead of him on his broom with clouds all around.

Harry felt some reluctance when he noticed the clouds begin to disappear, but allowed it to happen. He enjoyed the blue place. It was so relaxing. This was where he could truly let all his cares go.

His reluctance was from the thought of the blue place going away and the white space taking its place.

That did not seem to be happening though. Maybe that had only been a onetime thing.

Harry really did not care. The blue place suited him just fine. He could stay here for as long as possible.

And he did.

The teen stayed there until the blue began to lighten, the white slowly seeping in. Harry braced himself for the electricity that was sure to come. He felt the first of the sparks as soon as the last of the blue swirled away.

Lightning.

Burning.

Power.

This was the longest he had ever been in the white space. The first and only time before had been interrupted. The longer Harry stayed in this volatile location, the more it felt as though every nerve in his body felt as though they were set afire. He did not know if he wanted to go back or keep going. Was there something beyond this? What would it feel like? He had been pulled back before he could answer those questions and now Harry found he couldn't stop himself. He had to know.

Curiosity killed the cat and isn't a lion just a giant cat?

Harry wasn't thinking about proverbial words of wisdom, though.

The young wizard made the decision to push forward. The electricity intensified significantly to the point where Harry felt the need to cry out, but there was no sound here and even though his body felt pain, Harry's mind continued with its immersion.

Just when he thought that there was only the white space, that this was the end of the line, a small amount of color began to leak into the white that was crackling around him. Harry tried to focus around the pain that was shooting through his body to try to place what the color was infiltrating his senses.

Pink?

His subconscious contained the color pink?

Harry certainly hoped not. Ron would never let him live it down if his mind had a pink area.

Now he had to know.

He gave one last mental shove. Where the blue had slowly faded into the white, there was nothing slow or easy about this transition. This was like an explosion.

It was an explosion.

And all around him, the only thing Harry could see—

—was red.

Harry felt an intense pain of something impacting the back of his head, sending his mind back into his body and back into the library. His green eyes immediately flew open and his breath was escaping in rapid gasps as if he had just run a kilometer in three seconds flat. Those same eyes scanned through the library, barely recognizing the place. Chairs were overturned and books were scattered everywhere in disarray.

"Was there really an explosion?" Harry wondered aloud.

Seconds later, the door burst opened revealing a very scared looking Hermione and Ron.

"Are you guys okay?" Harry asked automatically as he took in their expressions.

"Are we okay?" the redhead asked incredulously as the two continued to rush over to Harry. "We should be asking you that!"

When they were finally right in front of where he was sitting on the floor, Hermione let out a gasp. "Harry, what happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" the green-eyed wizard asked as his hand came up to rub the back of his head. "I hit my head. I always hit my head when I do meditation. It's like a requirement."

The young witch shook her head franticly. "That's not what I mean. Here!"

She reached down and pulled the Harry to his feet. Before he could even ask what was going on, his friend had drug him out of the library and in front of one of the many large mirrors that hung in the hallway.

Harry was about to finally question what on earth was the matter, when he got a good look at himself in the mirror. His eyes widened as he took in his appearance.

He still had the green eyes. The same nose. Same mouth. Same annoying scar on his forehead. It was when he got to his hair that things got a little weird.

Scratch that.

A lot weird.

His hair was still very untidy, with flyaway curls and cowlicks everywhere.

And it was still black.

Mostly.

Now though, there was a spattering of grey hairs throughout and a small shock of grey locks right at the hairline in the middle of his forehead.

Harry brought his hand up to run it through his hair, hoping desperately that it would just rub out.

It didn't.

It looked as if the top of his head had been aged by several years.

He looked with wide eyes back over at his two best friends. They still had very surprised countenances. Harry knew he matched the look as well.

"What the hell happened?" he finally asked.

"Again," Ron said, "We should be asking you. We were in the other room, when it felt like—like some sort of giant shockwave went through the whole house. There is glass broken everywhere and we heard a lot of commotion coming from the library. That's when we came to find you."

Harry opened his mouth to ask another question, when a booming voice echoed through the house.

Severus' voice.

"GET UP HERE NOW!"

Harry winced. No need to wonder whom that order was directed towards. He gave one last glance to Ron and Hermione, before turning and running up the stairs to Severus's room. He ran through the door to see Severus sitting up in his bed, face contorted in anger. As soon as he took in Harry's appearance, more specifically his hair, the scowl faltered.

"What the hell did you do!?" he yelled at the teen.

Harry was immediately on the defense, "I didn't do anything! At least not on purpose. I was meditating and in the white place, but then I found a new area…it was red. It felt like an explosion. When Ron and Hermione came to get me I discovered this." He waved a hand up to indicate his hair.

Severus gave a grunting noise. "Well, it had better had felt like an explosion, because that is exactly what that was. You just sent out a highly powerful burst of magical energy."

Harry's eyebrows shot up into his now two-toned hair. "I did?"

"Yes. You did, you little imbecile. I would not be surprised if all of Great Britain felt that! What were you thinking!?"

"I don't know," Harry said in exasperation, "Like I said, I was in the white space and I found this new, red area. I wanted to see what exactly it was. Do you really think all of Britain felt that?"

That seemed almost impossible.

Had to be impossible.

"It was…quite an extreme show of power, Harry," Severus stated in a calmer tone of voice, though he still sounded highly unimpressed with the situation. "If we are lucky, then the force was not as widespread. If we are not, then—"

"Then Voldemort knows," Harry finished the statement. "Possibly we will be lucky?"

His only response at first was a hum. Harry stood frozen in front of the bed, waiting to see what Severus would say. Finally, the older, dark eyed wizard spoke.

"There is nothing we can do to change what has happened. The only thing we can do now is move forward and see what this new development brings. I highly doubt that this red area that you encountered only succeeded in causing a change in that mop of hair on your head."

Harry nodded his head. A flash of silver caught his eye. It took him a moment to remember that was his hair. This was really all they could do now. Press on and hope for the best.

And expect the worst.

"Right."

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Miles away, sitting in a dark room, lit by only a few candles, the Dark Lord Voldemort sat in his chair, surrounded by a few of his most inner circle of Death Eaters. Off in a corner of the room, sat the three Lestranges, still not back in good graces, but the dark lord was generous. He would allow them to make up for their failure.

A bony, white hand rose up to pet Nagini's head as the serpent lay its head in his lap.

That was quite a magical emission that occurred only a few moments ago.

His followers had all become uncertain, murmuring amongst themselves as to what could have caused such an event.

Lord Voldemort knew.

He could recognize that magic anywhere.

"Well, isssssn't thissss interessssting…"

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Thanks for reading chapter 10! Hope you enjoyed it.

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Teasers for next chapter:

- Well, that is quite different, isn't it?

- Most. Wicked. Thing. Ever.

- I am done teaching.

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Reviews are loved!


	12. How's the Weather?

**A/N: **You are the greatest! *Points to all the readers* You, you, you, you, and you! Thank you! Thank you to all the people who reviewed. Your kind words warmed this writer heart. Really. Right down to the sub-cockles. Thank you also to all of the Favorites Alerts and Story Alerts.

Beta-ed by the oh-so-talented **Invader Shawn**. She makes my writing all nice and pretty. Not an easy feat sometimes, but she does it with ease.

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Chapter 11: How's the Weather?

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_You're worried about him hurting Harry. – Hermione Granger_

"So, why are we doing this again?" Harry asked as Ron and Hermione shrank the last of the furniture in the drawing room. He watched as Ron picked up the antique chair that was now only fit for a dollhouse and took it out of the room. "And why can't I help again?"

"No magic, Harry," Hermione reprimanded. She did a once-over around the room to inspect something—Harry wasn't really sure what, before nodding her head. "We need to find out if anything is different with your magic now that you have access your true magical center.

"Is that what that was?" Ron asked as he came back into the room to stand next to his girlfriend. "We thought the white space was the end of the line. What if this red area isn't all there is either?"

"I kinda hope that's all there is."

"Why ya say that, mate?"

"Cause I don't even want to think about what would happen to my hair if there is another color. I'd probably go bald."

"Wouldn't be so bad. We could do ya a nice comb over and no one would know the difference."

"Thanks, Ron."

"It's what I'm here for, Harry."

"Enough you two. We have a lot of work to do."

"Awwww," the two boys chorused in unison.

Hermione looked back and forth between green and blue eyes.

"Fine, one more round of banter."

Ron smiled one of his ear-to-ear smiles and turned to Harry and opened his mouth, ready to start again. However, nothing came out. He gave a beseeching look to his shorter friend, but Harry hadn't a clue either, and simply shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"I can't!" Ron desperately claimed, "You can't just tell us we can make jokes. It takes all the fun out of it!"

The brunette witch simply rolled her eyes. She would never trade being friends with them for anything. If she hadn't, then she would have never gained the brother she had in Harry nor the love she had in Ron, but she sometimes wondered how the two would act without her. Probably not a pretty site.

"Ready to begin, Harry?" she asked as she walked over to a corner of the empty room. Ron followed and stood right beside her.

"Begin what?"

"You can't have possibly forgotten."

"I most possibly can."

"Our test," Hermione said in exasperation. "We need to see what—if any—new powers you have."

"Oh, well, yes. Why didn't you say so?"

"Careful, mate, or she will hit you upside your head."

"Right. Sorry, 'Mione. So, what do you want me to do?" Harry asked as he took out his wand. He was standing in the middle of the vacated drawing room. It looked a lot bigger now that all of the furniture was missing. Grimauld Place was a large home to begin with, but when you factor in the many the many acquired possessions of the noble house of Black had acquired over the centuries and the rooms easily began to fill up to capacity. Harry was reluctant to get rid of too much of his godfather's family home, but he knew that one day he would probably need to make this place his own.

"Just try casting a spell," Hermione prompted.

She, too, drew her wand, ready to react to anything that might happen. The furniture being out of the way took care of one concern, but there were glass and mirrors everywhere that had only been fixed last night. She also noticed Ron ready his wand and take a half step up and slightly to the right, making it to where he was slightly shielding her. She gave a small smile.

Harry nodded and raised his wand, ready to follow the order.

"Hold up there," he said as he abruptly put his arm back down. "Severus wanted to see this."

The green-eyed young man turned and began to leave the sitting area that currently had no seats.

"Wait, Harry," Ron said as he walked a few steps towards his fellow, retreating Gryffindor, "How in the world are you going to get him down here?"

Harry stopped mid-stride and turned back, contemplating the dilemma.

"I guess I will just float him down here," he said finally, though he really did not think Severus would ever agree to being levitated and transported around in such a fashion.

"Nuh-uh," Hermione said as she joined her much taller boyfriend, "No magic, remember? At least by you."

"Wait, even for that?"

"Yes. We don't know anything about your magic right now. It could be unstable. You wouldn't want to hurt Professor Snape by doing something accidently, would you?"

Harry paled. No, no he most certainly did not. "Okay. You're right. I'll go see how he feels about walking down the stairs. Might take a bit longer. I'll be back."

The ebony haired wizard turned and disappeared into the hallway.

"You know, I am still not used to that," Ron finally said when Harry's footsteps could no longer be heard.

"To what?" the young witch to his left turned and asked.

"To—to the friendship between Harry and Snape. It's weird."

"What is so weird about it?"

"Everything," Ron said as he waved his arms dramatically in an attempt to prove his point. "It's not normal."

"Why not?"

"Why not? Because it's Snape, isn't it? We all hate each other. Harry can't just turn around and be buddy-buddy with him. At first, I just thought Harry wanted to make peace with the guy. You know, declare some sort of working truce. I didn't think he would spend so much time with the potion bat and talk about him and worry about him." Ron sat down on the wooden floor and picked at the fringe on the area rug. It was the only item the teens left in the room that wasn't fixed to the wall.

"Are you worried that Harry will become better friends with Professor Snape than with you?" Hermione asked gently as she took a spot on the floor right next to Ron, but facing him slightly.

"I—no. No, of course not."

Hermione gave him one of her better looks. He wasn't going to be able to get out of this one.

Ron's shoulders slumped. "Maybe a little bit."

The young woman with soft brown eyes reached out to place her hand on Ron's jean-clad knee and rubbed in a comforting manner. "Why would you think that? You two are so close that Harry considers you a brother."

"I know," Ron replied on a sigh, "it's just that he seems to be spending so much time with Snape recently."

Hermione regarded the youngest Weasley male for a few minutes. What would be the best way to go about explaining this? Was there even a best way to explain such a thing?

"Ron," she finally began, "why do you hang out with me?"

Ron blinked in surprise at what seemed like a random question, but answered anyway. "Well, I like to be around you. We talk and laugh and have a good time."

"Is the way you and I interact with each other different from the way you interact with Harry?"

"Well, yea. Of course."

"How so?"

"For one thing, he's a boy and you're a girl. I don't know if you knew or not, but—ow!" Ron grinned in playfulness as he rubbed his arm from the mild smack that his girlfriend had given him.

"Be serious. Besides that, what is different?"

"Okay, okay. Uhh…We still talk and stuff—me and Harry—but you and I…well, we do other stuff, yea?" Ron said as his ears went slightly pink.

"Why?"

"Why?" Ron repeated like a parrot. "Because I like you, that's why. I love you. I spend time with you because I like you a lot and I like learning new things about you. What you like, what you don't like. I like hearing what you have to say about things."

"And you don't with Harry? You love him like a brother and enjoy talking with him."

Ron's brows had slowly drawn together in agitation. He didn't know where this conversation was going and Hermione was asking what seemed to him t be very odd questions. Questions that Ron had figured Hermione would have known.

"Well, yea, but that's completely different!"

"Why?"

The redheaded teen leaned back slightly in exasperation. "Because I am not attracted to Harry!"

"So Harry shouldn't ever be jealous about the fact that you spend more time with me?"

"No, why would he? While you started out as my friend, you and I have a completely different relationship. Harry will always be my best mate and you will always be my girl."

Hermione preened. Not only from the affirmation from the man she loved, but also because said man had just hit the proverbial nail on the head.

"Exactly."

Ron threw up his hands. He was just going to give up on trying to understand what in the world was going on. He looked straight into his girlfriend's eyes. "Huh?"

"Harry will never be jealous—or he shouldn't be—because our relationship is different from his and your's. While you and I are friends, we are something very different from other friendships, no matter how strong those friendships are."

Ron could see that. He nodded his head slowly. "Alright, I get that, but why did we get to talking about me, you and Harry? I thought we were talking about Harry and Snape."

Hermione sighed and tilted her head to the side. Ron might have gotten the idea behind her allegory, but he seemed to be having problems applying it.

"We still technically are."

"O…kay…"

"Ron, you shouldn't be jealous of Harry being friends with Professor Snape. Their relationship is—different—from the one that you two have."

There.

She had said it.

Clear as mud, but she had said it.

She just hoped that all of this convoluting had made the news a little easier for the redhead to take.

The Weasley teen's eyes narrowed in concentration as he tried to work out what was the answer. Hermione looked as though she had just explained everything, but Ron still felt in the dark. What was she talking about? Different? How was it different? Hermione had only been talking about how his and her relationship was different from his and Harry's. How in the world—

And then it clicked.

Hermione watched as Ron's eyes grew with the sudden comprehension. He sat up straighter and regarded his girlfriend in complete and utter skepticism. He finally began to speak, but instead of actual words, a series of babbles and stuttering splutters came out. Finally, the redhead began to cough, trying to get his breathing under control. The young witch leaned over and patted the young man on the back, waiting patiently as the news sank in.

"Hermione," Ron eventually said when he calmed a bit, "are you saying that Harry and Snape are—are—"

The Weasley's mouth continued to work, but no sound came out, making him look like a freckled fish.

"Not yet," the curly haired young woman finally answered the unfinished question, "but they will. They are both attracted to each other."

That began another fit of coughs from the tall redhead.

"Oh, for goodness sakes, Ron!" Hermione said as she rolled her eyes and began to pat his back again. "Calm down!"

"Calm down? I just found out my best mate likes a greasy bloke and you're telling me to calm down?!"

The young witch bristled. Her eyes narrowed slightly in a challenging fashion. Ron knew that look; he was terrified of that look.

"Do you have a problem with the fact that Harry likes another male?" Hermione asked coldly. For added measure, she drew her hand away from Ron's back, folding both of her hands in her lap in a very formal manner.

"No, I have a problem with his taste in men, but then again, Harry has always been a little," he made a shaky motion with his hand, "off."

Hermione stared in a stunned silence at her boyfriend. "You mean that you are okay with Harry being gay?"

Ron shrugged, "It's not like it's that uncommon. I guess my inner mind or whatever the heck you wanna call it must have known 'cause now that you say it, it kinda makes sense."

The young witch let out a sigh of relief and also felt a swell of pride over the maturity the usually childish young man was now portraying.

"What I don't get is why Harry only came to you with this. I mean, I'm his best mate. Did he think I would hate him? Is it because it's Snape? 'Cause even though I don't like that man, I'm still gonna—"

"Harry didn't come to me with this," Hermione confessed.

"He didn't? Then how—"

"I just know."

"You just…know."

"Yes."

"So that whole long, drawn out explanation and getting mad at me when you thought I had a problem with Harry was based on a hunch?"

"Not a hunch. An educated guess."

"Oh, well, why didn't you say so? That's completely different from a hunch," the red head retorted sarcastically.

"You said so yourself. It seemed to make sense that Harry was gay."

"That's not the part I'm concerned with. Now there is a fighting chance that Harry isn't interested in that bat."

"You've seen the way Harry looks when someone mentions Professor Snape's name or when he is about to go and visit with him."

"Harry has got some pretty weird looks. You don't know. It could be gas."

"Ronald."

"I'm just saying that we can't rule out other possibilities."

"It could be a lot worse."

"How? How could it be worse?"

"It could be Malfoy."

Ron shuddered. "Bite your tongue, woman."

Hermione gave a small laugh. "I am really glad that you are okay with Harry and Professor Snape."

"Uh-uh. I never said I was okay with Snape. Harry—yes. Harry is okay. Harry is great. Snape—bad. Very bad."

"May I ask why? He isn't one of the bad guys, Ron. He has proven himself as an ally to the Order and has very obviously risked his life for the cause. He may bare the Dark Mark, but he isn't a Death Eater."

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Yea, fine. He may be one of the good guys, but that doesn't mean he's a good guy," Ron exclaimed as he crossed his arms at his chest. It was done in an attempt to look resolute, but since he was sitting on the floor, it made him look more like a pouting child. "He's mean."

Hermione's eyes softened. "You're worried about him hurting Harry."

"Well, yea. Aren't you?"

"A little, but I trust Harry and when—"

"Wait, wait, wait. What are we doing? We are putting the horse before the buggy."

Hermione had to smirk. "The horse before the buggy? Really?"

The redhead's ears turned pink as he muttered, "'Somthin my dad always says."

"That is really cute."

The macho Weasley cleared his throat. "What I mean is, we don't even know. You may be making an educated guess, but it is still all just guesswork. I, for one, am going to be optimistic and believe that Harry does not like Snape."

"There is only one way to settle this."

"Pretend it's not there and hope it goes away?"

"We ask him."

"Oh, that will be a blast of a conversation. Could you see that? 'Hey Harry! So, just out of curiosity, ever thought you were into blokes?'"

"Well, we need—"

Hermione's argument was cut short by the approaching sound of footsteps and the sound of voices. The two teens quickly stood from the floor as the two became close enough to hear what was being said.

"Stop trying to walk so fast. You are gonna fall."

"Perhaps it is you who are going to slow. I, for one, am in perfect condition for going at such a speed."

"You are going to tire yourself out too much. You just made it down a whole flight of stairs. I would hate to think what Madame Pomfrey would say if she ever found out about this."

"You are becoming an annoyance with this constant nagging."

"I am not nagging!"

Hermione turned to look at Ron. She knew she couldn't say anything without it being overheard, but she knew that she was conveying the message loud and clear.

'See? Told you.'

Ron took up the silent dialogue, narrowing his eyes in what he hoped was a very clear and precise, 'Hush, you.'

Finally, hobbling into the room came the teen and the adult he was holding up. Professor Snape looked as though he had seen much less trying days during his recovery there at Grimmauld Place, but along with the tired visage was a glint of determination that Hermione knew meant that the man was set on coming down here to witness and take note of any changes in Harry that had come from the red space. The young witch could almost hear the argument that probably had taken place while they descended the stairs with Harry wanting them to stop and Professor Snape insisting they move forward.

She heard a soft shuffle along with the shoed footsteps and looked down to reveal the older Potions Master's feel clad in black slippers. Hermione knew that the man did not have those house shoes before and was about to scold Harry for doing magic, but when she looked up she was met with a glare from onyx eyes. The young woman tried not to blush at being caught staring at the professor's footwear.

"Do you find something amusing about my choice of footwear, Ms. Granger?"

Ron bristled at the tone the older wizard had used with his girlfriend. It was the same condescending tone used in potions class. He looked down to see what the fuss was about, not that it made any difference. To him, they just looked like ordinary house shoes.

"No, sir," he heard Hermione answer beside him, "I was just about to inquire who transfigured them for you since I specifically told Harry not to use magic. He could be unstable."

The taller, dark eyed man did not say anything for a few moments, but continued to stare at the two of them in the near center of the room. Finally, and with what seemed like great difficulty, the man spoke.

"That is a good idea Ms. Granger. Though Harry failed to mention your orders—a fact that does not surprise me in the least considering his lack of mental capacity—"

"Oi!" Harry tried to interject from underneath Severus's arm. It was all in vain, since the taller man kept talking as though he hadn't been interrupted.

"I also had a similar thought perception of the situation and transfigured the house shoes from my ordinary footwear that I was brought here in."

The redhead in the room tried to process the conversation. Snape had just given Hermione a compliment, didn't he? He never did that. Of course, the only reason he probably said it was a good idea is that he thought of it too. Then again, the normal, bastard Snape wouldn't have given even any sort of hint of a compliment to anyone. This was all getting too weird. He needed to sit down.

He never got the chance, but instead had to bring back one of the shrunken chairs and resize it to allow Professor Snape the use of it while Harry tried out his magic for the first time since the magical explosion. Eventually it was back to the original set-up, add one more viewer, with the group observing off in the corner and Harry standing in the middle of the room.

"You just want me to do any spell? Or did you three have something particular in mind?" Harry couldn't help but feel like he was in some competition with three judges ready to hold up a card with his score on it after everything he did.

"Try a more lower-level spell at first, Harry," Hermione said as, for the second time, she readied her wand.

Harry nodded and raised his wand. His mouth was just opening to mutter the spell, his hand beginning to move in the upward motion when a loud pop came from the hallway, effectively startling the green-eyed teen. He startled a bit and lowered his wand as all four occupants in the room turned to see their new guest.

"Is anybody home?" the voice of Albus rang out from the entryway. Moments later, an elderly face with a long silver beard and blue eyes poked came around the corner of the drawing room door, followed very shortly by the rest of the headmaster. The blue eyes immediately settled on Harry, and if the teen wasn't mistake, those blue eyes flashed when he noticed the change in Harry's hair. The man had returned to his same expression so immediately, though, that Harry had a hard time deciding if it had really happened.

"Well, that is certainly quite different, isn't it?" the older man in dark navy robes exclaimed as he came into the room the rest of the way. Harry immediately let out a sigh of relief. At least they weren't dull.

Harry absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair, still halfway expecting to bring it down and find it covered in silver paint. Some great joke. Then, he remembered what Severus had said last night. "Yea. Did you…by any chance feel something—different—last night?"

"Nothing that surprised me," Albus answered back pleasantly.

Harry gave a small sigh of relief.

"The only thing that I felt was a large magical explosion that seemed to have a distinct signature of your magic."

He had sighed too soon.

"You felt that all the way in Hogwarts?" The young wizard hoped that Albus would tell him that he was much closer, like in London, when the blast occurred.

"Oh yes, very easily. I venture to say all of Britain felt some sort of reverberation from that." The man might as well have been talking about the pleasant weather they were having with his tone and the way he was taking all of this. Harry wondered if perhaps this wasn't just another move in the game.

Another hand of cards.

"What I am not sure of is what caused such an interesting occurrence."

"Harry entered into his magical center, sir!" Hermione answered automatically. She still had the habit of trying to be the first to answer teachers when a question was asked. She was proud of herself, though, she hadn't raised her hand this time.

Albus looked around the empty room, spotting the other three occupants. "Ah, is that so? Sounds most intriguing. I shall have to get the full story later. And what do we have going on here? Severus, how did you make it down the stairs?"

The Potions Master grumbled something that the rest did not understand and simply shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"We are trying to see what changes, if any, occurred in Harry's magic after what happened last night," the young witch answered once more.

"Splendid!" Albus said as he clapped his hands together and walked to join the small party in the corner. "I should like to see this as well."

"Uh, okay," the Boy-Who-Lived murmured. He was really hoping nobody else showed up. He was starting to get a little nervous with all these eyes watching him. It didn't help either that he had his doubts whether or not any change had occurred. He didn't feel any different. Knowing his luck, there would be all this anticipation and all he would be able to do now is burp his ABC's backwards or something to that effect. Ron would probably get a kick out of that, but he doubted it would help him win the war.

For a third time he raised his wand. A simple _lumos_ would probably be basic enough to fit the criteria. Still feeling the weight of all the onlookers upon him, Harry muttered the spell and flicked his wand. The effect was instantaneous.

The room filled with a blinding flash that did not seem to die down; in fact, it only grew brighter. There had been times when Harry had accidentally cast a strong _lumos _spell. These times had usually been during frustration when he had all but yelled the spell and was nothing compared the brightness that was emanating from the tip of his wand at the current moment. Harry covered his eyes with his hand to shield off the intense glow that filled the room. He quickly reversed the spell and looked over at his four judges, all of whom removing their own hands from their eyes.

"Well," Albus said as he brought his hand back fully to his side, "I guess it would be safe to assume that something most different has occurred."

"Yea, no kidding!" Ron exclaimed to the headmaster's right.

"Alright!" Hermione said as she came up to Harry and began to cast diagnostic spells, "That is definitely a start! You seem to be alright medically. How do you feel?"

"On cloud nine," the messy haired teen responded deadpan.

"Do try to take this seriously?"Severus asked from the chair.

"Right. I feel fine. No different. Should I? Has my magic gone wonky?"

"I don't know for certain. It certainly doesn't appear that way from my scans. Try another spell."

"Okay, here goes. _Accio Meditation Book_."

Harry heard something whizzing through the air and held up his hand to catch the book that was about to fly into the room.

That had been the plan right up until the book came shooting into the room like a shot from a gun. He quickly pulled Hermione out of the way as the book sped past and collided with the stone fireplace on the wall behind them, breaking the cover from its pages. Harry looked at the book as though it were about to turn and attack him like the Monster Book of Monsters had in his third year. The tome just lay there, though, motionless and looking just a bit pathetic with the cover torn and tattered. The young wizard was jarred from his thoughts by a sharp punch to his arm.

"Ouch! 'Mione? What was that for?" he asked as he looked at his friend.

"How dare you treat a book like that?!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

"There is no harm, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore said as he picked up the two pieces of the book and repaired them with a bit of wand-work. After he was finished he handed the book back to Hermione and turned to Harry.

He did not say anything, but he smiled and reached out, taking Harry's wand from his hand. The green-eyed teen allowed it to happen with no questions, assuming that the elderly headmaster was simply trying to inspect his wand. He was fairly surprised then, when Albus walked back over to his standing place beside Severus's chair without giving the wand back. Blue eyes looked at him with a small amount of amusement over the teen's obvious confusion.

"Try it now, Harry."

"How?" Harry's forehead crinkled in confusion. "You have my wand."

Severus rolled his eyes. "That is the point, Harry. He wants you to perform spells without the use of your wand."

"I can't do that."

"You've done it before," Ron finally spoke up.

"Yea, but that was when I was really upset or something. I'm not upset right now."

"I could step on your toe, that might make you upset and—"

"Is that your answer to this situation, Mr. Weasley?" Severus turned to the redhead and glared, "That is the best your mind can come up with?"

"Lay off him, Severus," Harry chastised without realized how informal he was being with the man in front of witnesses. "He was just making a joke."

"Says you. I was trying to help in getting you upset."

"Thanks, Ron."

"There will be no need for anyone to cause anyone a malady in this situation," Dumbledore interrupted. "Harry, simply try."

The young wizard nodded, running his hand through his hair, trying to think of a spell. Not being terribly creative at the moment, he decided on one that he had already done.

"_Lumos,_" he spoke calmly into the room, not expecting anything whatsoever to happen. His bright green eyes widened as the room began to grow a bit brighter, as though someone had turned on an extra light.

"Wow."

"Ever the articulate individual, aren't you?" he heard Severus mutter sarcastically; however, he couldn't even be bothered to retaliate at the moment.

"_Finite._"

This time, Harry really tried to pay attention to what was going on around him, inside of him. He felt what could only be described as a rush, starting from the area of his lungs and spreading outward.

Was that his magic?

As soon as the rushing feeling met his fingertips and toes, which happened very quickly, he saw the room begin to dim down until it was at its normal lighting level once more.

"So…so I can do wandless magic now? Just like that?"

"It would appear so," Albus said with a small smile. Yes, things seemed to be fitting together quite nicely as far as the headmaster of Hogwarts was concerned.

Harry's mind was racing at lightning speed. What all could he do? Could he do all magic without a wand? Or only simple spells? What was a more difficult spell?

'Oh! I could try lighting a fire in the fireplace.'

At the very same moment that thought entered his mind, the fireplace sprung to life in a roar of yellow and orange flames. Harry jumped at the rushing of magic through his body and turned quickly to watch as the fire danced around happily in its crate. Completely unaware that it had come into this world in such an astonishing manner.

"Wordlessly, too," Hermione said as she once again approached and began to run her medical spells over Harry.

"I didn't say a spell though."

Severus snorted. "That is the point of wordless magic, you little dolt."

"Okay then, I didn't think a spell either."

"What do you mean?" Hermione looked at him with confused brown eyes.

"Just that. I thought about using a spell to light a fire and it just did it."

He looked over at the chair Severus was sitting in. It was light yellow in color and had a slight roughened texture to it from age. He tried to imagine what the chair would look like if it were blue with green stripes and watched as the color of the actual chair morphed to match the one in his mind.

Severus looked down at the new upholstery completely unimpressed. "Wonderful. You are now the master of domestic spells," he muttered dryly. "How is this going to help us?"

"Hey, leave off!" Ron exclaimed in his best friend's defense.

Harry pursed his lips in concentration. Severus was pushing him, of that he had no doubt. He was just doing it in Snape fashion. The fact that he could do wandless magic wordlessly so easily now was an asset, but if it was to help them at all, they needed to know Harry's limits. The young teen closed his eyes and tried to think about what just how he should go about doing that.

The room became quite still, everyone waiting for something to happen. Ron shifted anxiously from foot to foot, and Hermione, who had rejoined the group in the corner to stand by his side, tried to get her boyfriend to keep still.

Harry was completely oblivious to this. In fact, his mind wasn't even anywhere near Grimmauld Place. He was back in the sky and clouds. This time, however, instead of the usual bright, white fluffy clouds in the blue sky that he usually saw when he was meditating, it looked much later in the day with a soft orange tinting the clouds, suggesting it was late in the afternoon. Close to evening.

'Almost like it's the time of day right now,' the teen thought absently.

Was he seeing the sky outside?

How?

Why?

This was silly. He had seen clouds before and they were just a part of his subconscious-thing-a-ma-jigger—or whatever it's called. To prove it, Harry decided to focus all of his attention on the clouds, ready to see them leave as they always did and make way for the blue space.

They didn't leave.

They got bigger.

Harry felt as his body tensed, the growingly familiar rush spreading out through his body once again. This time, those pesky bolts of electricity that he felt whenever he entered the white place also accompanied the rush. He wasn't in the white place, though. He was looking at the clouds as they continued to grow and darken, some combining and blocking out the blue sky.

Harry wanted to break away. This was starting to frighten him. His legs had locked up and he could feel his toes beginning to tingle from poor circulation. Despite this, he couldn't stop his mind from centralizing on the clouds—which were now the only thing he could see—and from the magic that was leaving him as if on its own accord.

Dark, ominous clouds.

What had started out as a pleasant evening in his mind was now on the verge of a thunderstorm.

And still, like meditating, he couldn't stop.

What did these storm clouds in his mind mean?

Lightning began to strike out from the storm clouds in time with the shocks that were running through Harry's body.

Harry's green eyes snapped open wide when a large clap of thunder roared out, shaking the walls of the house. Through hazy eyes he watched as Hermione walked the scant distance to the window to peer out through the curtains.

"It's really starting to storm out there!" the ebony haired teen heard her say, but it was like it was said through water or like Harry's head was in a bubble.

Suddenly, sitting down felt like a very good idea.

He felt his body leaning back enough to allow him to sit on the hardwood floor. Back and back he went, only he kept going back and the back of his head impacted the ground as the rest of him sprawled out.

'Oh well, lying down is good too.'

"Harry!"

'Huh, that kinda sounded like Ron. Ron is a good guy.'

Dazed green eyes that were looking up at the ceiling tried to focus as a blue-eyed redhead came into his line of vision.

"Harry? Mate, what happened?"

Harry really didn't know how to respond to that. "Hi."

That seemed good enough.

He saw a brown blur and turned his head slightly to see Hermione also looking over him.

"Oh, Harry, what happened? What magic spell did you cast?"

"Your hair is really curly."

Again, at the time, that seemed like the appropriate response to the young witch's question.

He watched as his two friends looked at each other.

"I believe his brain has melted."

"Get me up right now!" came an irritated growl from somewhere behind his two friends. "What spell did you do that drained you to that severe and extent?"

That was Severus, his addled mind thought. Harry blinked a few times to clear up the dizziness that seemed to have gotten into both his eyes. Slowly, very slowly, he sat up with a groan, aware that Ron and Hermione were hovering over him and from what he could make out in his peripheral vision; Albus was trying to manage getting Severus to stand from the chair and move towards him as well.

"Is it raining?" Harry asked as he looked at the window in front of him. The weather itself seemed to answer him, letting loose another flash of lightning and boom of thunder.

"Will you be answering a question presented to you in an intelligent manner anytime soon, or are we to suffer through one of your little episodes!" Severus was not about to sit there and let Harry space out like this.

For one thing, there needed to be questions answered that only the young man could do and secondly…well, Severus had felt the amount of power that had left the boy. It wasn't like the large explosion of last night, but a steady flow that seemed impossibly strong at the beginning and did not ebb away. It seemed enough to drain two wizards and whether Severus would ever accept it or not, the thought that Harry had accidently pushed too far and hurt himself or his magic scared him just a little bit.

Not that Severus Snape ever got scared.

"Now, Severus," Albus responded in a appeasing fashion, helping the Potions Master walk over to the group of teenagers in the middle of the room. "Let us allow him time to—"

"Time is something we do not have. Potter! Harry! Answer!"

Green eyes blinked again, then turned to look at the dark haired wizard being escorted over to him. "I thought I did?"

"By asking us it was raining. That was not the answer we are looking for."

"It's the only answer I got."

Harry tried to explain the clouds in his mind and how they had begun to change. About the rush of magic and the bolts of energy. When he felt like he had explained it all in probably too much detail and on one breath, did he pause and look at his companions. Ron looked a little confused about the whole thing, which relieved Harry since it meant he wasn't the only one. The other three, however, had on identical looks of astonishment with just a hint of apprehension thrown in for good measure.

"Harry," Hermione was the first to say. She knelt down beside him and waited till he was fully looking at her before continuing. "Are you saying that you made it storm outside?"

Dark eyebrows rose upward into silver and black fringe. "What? No. I was only predicting the storm."

He looked around the room. No one seemed to think that was the answer.

"Right?" He asked the group, his eyes landing on Severus.

The man just shook his head. "I do not think so, Potter. The amount of magic that was generated did not warrant a simply weather forecast."

"I am afraid that Severus is right, my dear boy," Albus added. "That kind was the kind of energy that is usually needed for such things as elemental manipulation."

Harry was still trying to work out what exactly all of that meant, when Ron finally seemed to come out of his own stupor.

"Wait, you mean Harry can control the weather?!"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "It would appear to be the case"

Wait.

"I can what?"

Albus smiled. It was a tired smile, one that knew that trials were ahead, but a smile that needed to happen regardless. "You seem to be able to be able to control nature. Some wizards have the ability to do so, but it usually requires the use of a wand and an extreme amount of power. Only a few wizards nowadays can perform even a small type of environmental manipulation."

Harry just continued to sit on the hardwood floor staring at the silver bearded headmaster and the tall, dark eyed wizard, not really able to accept what was being told to him.

Ron seemed to accept it, though.

"Most. Wicked. Thing. Ever."

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Severus watched as the other two teens walked Harry out of the drawing room and to the kitchen after they had decided it would be best if the green eyed wizard eat some food in order to regain his strength. They had tried to explain to Harry what all could entail his ability to manipulate nature, but the young man seemed too far in a daze to be able to properly take anything in. After about the seventh 'huh?' Severus had growled out a banishment to the kitchen for the teen.

Everyone had agreed with him.

The Potions Master sighed as the two young wizards and young witch rounded the corner to the hallway.

"Quite the interesting development we have here, don't we, Severus?" Albus asked from his left.

"Try not to sound too pleased about it."

There was a pause.

"I am not. It does seem that young Harry is quite the recipient for unusual occurrences."

"That may be the understatement of the century."

The two older wizards continued to stare at the entryway of the drawing room. Severus was growing tired, but was not about to let Albus on to that fact. However, it seemed his ex-professor knew of his discomfort, since the man wordlessly turned him and began to walk him back to the chair that was still horrendously colored from Harry's earlier magical experiments.

Severus sat down unceremoniously in the seat when they got close enough. He looked up to see Albus with a worried expression on his face. The man was actually pacing.

"What is it?"

Albus cast his blue eyes at his Potions Professor. "I have decided to end all of my diplomatic missions and reenter the battlefield."

The younger of the two was beginning to think he was having a hearing problem. "You are doing what exactly?" He knew he was only a few steps away from Harry's 'Do what, now?' but it was the question he had to ask.

Albus sighed. "I am not proud of it, Severus, but I must admit that part of my decision to stop fighting and to not be available all of the time was to force young Harry to enter into the leader role he was meant to be in."

"So why have you decided to change that?"

"Besides the recent developments in Harry's magic?" Albus rhetorically asked. "I may not be as useful as I once was, considering my age…and you are welcome to disagree with me on that point—"

"Albus…"

"Ah well, as I was saying, there are going to be events that will come to pass where I will need to face Tom on my own. A personal matter, you understand."

Severus narrowed his eyes. Something just did not seem right. Something was going to happen and while the elderly wizard knew, he did not seem to be in a hurry to divulge any information.

Another move in the blasted metaphorical game that Albus constantly droned on about.

Somehow, he knew he and Harry were involved.

He was a pawn yet again and did not even know when the time to play was coming up.

The thought incensed him

Severus had had enough.

"I am done teaching," he announced.

He had been pondering this decision in his time alone for many days now. This was the last straw. He was going to start making his own decisions on his own time and the rest of the world could go hang.

Albus stopped his pacing and looked at Severus. "You will not instruct Harry?"

'What? No.'

"No, that is not what I mean. I am done teaching Potions." He could have left it at that. He could have been just as cryptic as the old man was being. After all, this was something he was doing as retaliation for all the countess manipulations he—and now he realized Harry—had endured. Try as he might, though, he found himself launching into an explanation to his now former boss. "I was forced into the profession and have never been able to put any sort of passion into teaching the brats. I will not be well anytime soon and I am sure you will be able to find a replacement."

The headmaster nodded. Severus's heart sank as he saw a twinkle begin to form in those blue eyes behind the half moon glasses.

"So, what will you do now that you are not a teacher?"

The man was taking his resignation far too well.

"I...suppose I will continue to focus of my convalescence. Then I shall begin to train with Potter—Harry again."

"You will have much more free time for that I suppose," Albus offered calmly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Quite a lot of time for training." An aged hand came up to stroke the long silver beard. "You will be spending a lot of time with Harry even after you heal and no longer need his assistance."

Severus scowled. "Well, yes. The little nitwit needs it, does he not? He obviously is in way over his head and will need guidance in order to even hope to understand his magic."

"Marvelous!" Dumbledore beamed. "I am glad that you are so willing to devote so much time to your friend. It is said that friendship is like a plant. Take care of it and who knows what will bloom."

"Now wait a moment—"

"I must be off. Minerva will throw quite the fit if I am not back by suppertime. I know she enjoys being in charge, but she worries about me so, bless her. You take care, Severus, and please tell Harry my regrets on having to leave so suddenly."

For a man close to the century and a half mark, Dumbledore could move pretty fast when he wanted to. Before Severus had a chance to make any kind of retort, the man in dark navy blue was out of the room, smiling the whole way. Severs heard the pop of the man disapparating before he was fully able to register that Albus had left.

Severus pursed his lips so hard that the pink in them washed clear out.

He had the distinct impression that he had walked into another of the coots plans, yet again.

Moreover, he had dragged Harry into it with him.

To what end, he was not sure.

The stoic, ex-professor leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

"Damn," he quietly swore into the seemingly peaceful room.

Damn, indeed.

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Thank you muchly for reading Chapter 11!! I hope it was enjoyed.

**A/N part deux: **Life is getting very, very busy with the start of classes again. I have a new job that is highly demanding a long with an increasing number of outside commitments. My beta, the great **Invader Shawn**, is also starting back to school and will be busy with that. Long story short: I will not be able to update like I have during this summer. I do not want rush myself and give you all less than quality chapters and I certainly don't want to stress out Invader Shawn. She is doing this for me as a favor; I am not going to go Tyrana-writer on her. I apologize to you readers, but I justify it by saying that I want the chapters to be just as good as before and that will mean that my posting schedule will have to be compromised. I am truly sorry, though. I know how some of you have come to look forward to the regular posts. Know that I **will **update as often as I and my beta are able. I am truly sorry. Please stay with this story! I promise it will be worth it!

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Teasers for Next chapter:

- I want to box.

- Harry, mate, can we ask you a personal question?

- This is so incredibly not safe…

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Reviews are loved!!


	13. A River in Egypt

**A/N: **I would firstly like to apologize for the length at which it took me to update. My new job as a teacher has proved to be more hectic than I can imagine and to top it off, I came down with the flu about two weeks ago. These are poor excuses, but hey, there all I got. I will hopefully be a little quicker with my updates in the future. I really, really hope…

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, story alerted, or heck, even took the time to read this story. It means a lot.

Finally, mighty big thanks goes out to **Invader Shawn **who is my wonderful beta. She couldn't get to this chapter just yet because of her own busy life, but she gave me to go ahead to post, so here ya go!

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Chapter 12: A River in Egypt

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"_Well, that went well." – Ron Weasley_

"We shall be resuming our training."

Harry looked up from his book with complete surprise at the announcement just issued from the Potions Master lying in the bed.

"Who's we?" the teen asked as he lowered his text. "You have a mouse in your pocket?"

Severus pulled on the blanket covering him to straighten out a few of the wrinkles. "You and I, you dunderhead. I believe I have made myself perfectly clear."

"How do you propose to do that? Madame Pomfrey has only just given you the go ahead for rehab just three weeks ago."

"That point is moot. We have been working on rehabilitation for a little over a month now."

"You're still not strong enough."

The older wizard snorted. "You are certainly not a certified Healer. Your opinion is hardly validated."

"Wait. You don't even value Healer's advice. We've already established that."

"Exactly."

"Did you have to go to a class or something to be able to circularly argue like that?"

"Watch your cheek. And in response to your inquiry, I believe that my logic in this situation is completely linear."

"I bet," Harry said as he set his book on the bedside table and leaned back in his chair. "Can I ask you a question?"

"I believe you already have," Severus responded curtly.

"Now who is being cheeky? Haven't you used that joke enough?"

"Who says that I am making a joke? Tell me Harry, what would happen if I said, 'No,' to your question?"

Harry hadn't ever thought about that before. Other than Severus, everyone always answered the affirmative when he asked. "I—I don't know."

"I will tell you. You would ask anyway. People act as though they are polite, but in reality, it is all just an act. They will selfishly seek out their own agendas."

Harry's forehead furrowed. "Whoa. Um, this is a little bit doom and gloom over just a simple question, isn't it?"

"It was simply a verified statement from years of un-biased observations," the Potions Master said, his tone of voice conveying his complete belief in that statement.

The green-eyed teen tried not to laugh.

Much.

"What is so humorous?" Severus huffed in annoyance as the boy began to chuckle quietly. Nothing he had said was funny. It was the truth. People were selfish. All of them. It is part of human evolution. The ancestors of man had to fend for themselves. If they had not, the club, bow and arrows would have never been invented. This same mentality was still employed by mankind today.

'Only now we are making different clubs,' Severus thought as Harry got his laughter under control.

"Un-biased?" Harry said with a grin as he looked at the dour man in the bed. "Go on, pull another one!"

The older wizard huffed agitation, "I am not joking, you little fool. Are you naïve or idiotic enough to believe that there exists such a thing as a selfless act out there in this world?"

The mirth almost immediately left Harry's eyes, giving them instead a slight haunted look in the bright green depths. Severus had to admit, the look combined with the unique eye color made Harry's face look otherworldly—and not in necessarily a good way. Severus instantly realized that he hated that look on Harry and immediately wanted it gone.

He had caused that.

And he knew why.

"Yea," Harry said quietly, "I believe there is."

The teens head fell forward into his right hand, his slightly overgrown, ebony locks spilling over as his right hand came up to his face. Thought the hair covered it, Severus knew that the hand was rubbing over that famous, blasted scar.

Lily.

Well, hell.

Severus knew he was not a nice man.

He knew that, in all reality, he was a bastard.

In fact, that there was probably a foul pit in the darkest corners of Hogwarts that the students and a few of the staff had renamed in his honor.

And up until just a few months ago, he had been damned proud of this fact.

Yet now he felt no pride in his caustic rubric and had the compulsion to remedy this situation by casting himself in the wrong. He was doing this too much to Harry, apologizing that is. He did not apologize to people; it was not his idiom. Yes, this obviously needed to stop, Severus amended mentally as he shifted his weight up on the bed so that he was sitting more upright. This apologized all the time to Harry would cease and desist.

Right after this one.

"That was wrong," he finally said, cursing himself three ways past Sunday and in three different languages for the fact that his voice sounded so weak.

Harry's head popped up so fast, Severus was sure that the teen had hurt his neck. Verdant eyes were now wide, though not with surprise. In fact, he looked insulted and just a hair on this side of angry.

"I don't give a damn if you think it's wrong! It is what I think and I am—"

"That is not what I meant," Severus said calmly. There. Better. Not so bleeding timid sounding.

"Don't interrupt me, you sorry excuse for an overgrown—wait—what?" Harry's rant fizzed as his brain finally registered what the other man had said. His face, which clearly expressed the teen's anger before, now had an added dose of confusion thrown into the mix.

"I should not have said that at all. There…may exist some selfless acts out there."

"Oh—okay. Uh…"

Severus rolled his eyes. Apparently, the dense boy was going to make him spell it all out. "You were right. I was wrong. I apologize. Are you happy now?"

Harry was still highly confused. "Why would I be happy that you were wrong?"

"You do not wish to gloat?"

"No."

"What is the matter with you, then?"

"I have absolutely no idea. What's the matter with you? You have been in a pissy mood lately. Well, more so than usual," Harry said matter-of-factly. He was starting to get use to rows with Severus starting and ending abruptly.

The Potions Master bristled at the comment, despite its truth. Ever since the night Harry had discovered his heightened abilities and Dumbledore had made his cryptic comments, Severus had been ill at ease about everything around him. He knew something was going to happen. Soon. And he would be damned if he was going to take this lying down.

Literally.

He needed to be well and he needed to be well yesterday. He needed to make sure that Harry did not blow himself up with his new magical awareness because somehow, for whatever reason, Severus knew that Harry was going to have to be ready. For what, he did not know. It was like the apprehension he had experienced when he knew that Voldemort was becoming wise to his double-spying, only now it was more general. He just felt that something big was coming and he could not figure out as to what it was. He seethed at night as he pondered these feelings and the voice in his head sounded remarkably like Professor Trelawney telling him to, 'open his inner eye.'

Severus had squashed that voice rather quickly.

This was by no means a premonition in any sense of the word.

Not even in any sense of the letters that make up the word.

He was not even seeing anything.

Divination was preposterous.

Severus drew himself up to full height, or as full height as he could get sitting in a bed, and finally replied, "I simply wish to oversee your new training. I highly doubt Mr. Weasley or Ms. Granger can possibly help you to get your magic under control. Besides, you want to fight again, don't you?"

There. Perfect diversion. He did not have to divulge any information about his nagging feelings of unknown, impending and possibly awful-and-none-too-pleasant happenstances and, if the look on the teen's face was anything to go by, he had completely shifted the focus of the conversation.

Harry averted his eyes. "So what if I do."

Really, the teen reasoned he would be grateful to just get out of the house right about now. Dumbledore had cornered him right after the first test of his magic and through some strange, convoluted series of jargon, had gotten Harry to agree that until his powers were completely under control, he should not be out on the battlefield. It had seemed to make sense at the time. Something about balance of magic and accidental spells and friendly fire, but after nearly a month of watching and worrying as the rest of the Order went out into battle; the green eyed young man was beginning to think that he had been tricked somehow.

"If we begin your training with me supervising, then you will actually make improvement instead of the little experiments that Ms. Granger has you perform under the guise of beneficial training."

"Hey," Harry responded with only a slight bit of irritation, "Leave Hermione alone. She has been helping."

"Making water 'dance' is not helping."

"You haven't even seen it. It is pretty neat."

"Oh yes. Neat is just what we are going for. Your magic is still wild and out of control. I happen to agree with Dumbledore. Until you can control you magic, you are a danger to everyone."

"It's not like I am doing anything terrible. I—"

"Need I remind you," Severus interrupted insistently, "Of the incident two weeks ago?"

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair. "What incident? All I did was turn your hair pink!"

"All? It was irreversible and it did not go away for six days!"

"It was just a sneeze! It didn't do any harm!"

"Precisely. If you are constantly producing random acts of volatile magic through such innocuous means as Sternutation, then think how you would be on a battlefield where emotions and adrenaline is already running high."

"Fine!" Harry threw his hands up into the air in an intended and obviously over-dramatic fashion. "You have made your point. I am a menace to the magical society!"

"Are you quite through."

The young man just sighed as he lowered his arms. "Yea, I guess."

The two, dark-haired wizards stayed quiet for a few minutes. Harry turned his head to look out the small, dust-covered window in the room. Much to Severus's dismay, Harry had started to pull the drapes back to let in some sunlight. At first, he had joked that it was in order to give the other man a tan, but after being ordered to stay indoors for a month, the green eyed Gryffindor found that he did that all over the house, if only to get just a little sun himself. Right now, the sun was starting to set, the orange sunbeam coming through the window and illuminated the small dust particles in the air of the room.

The image reminded Harry of his childhood, when the light from the outside house would filter through the small vent in the door to his cupboard. He would sit on his small cot and watch the dust particles float around. Occasionally, he would pat his old blanket, sending more dust swirling into the air and into the light.

Back then, he had felt trapped and found his escape in those little things, hoping that life would get better. Now he found himself staring at sunbeams, but now he wasn't content to just sit there and wait for things to get better.

"I want to fight," he finally said as he continued to watch as the light began to slowly change from orange to red and every color in between. He should really light a candle.

Severus did not respond at first and Harry wondered if the man had even heard him at all. He seemed off in his own thoughts as well.

Harry just continued to stare at the window, keeping Severus in his peripheral vision.

"I want to fight again, as well."

It was said quietly, but in the still of the room, it was easily heard. Harry finally directed his eyes to the older wizard lying in the bed. Severus face was still as impassive, but Harry wondered when, if ever, the man had ever voiced something like that. A want. Not a need. A want.

Continuing to stare look at Severus as he said, "I want to go shopping."

Severus scoffed. "I want to drink."

Harry knew what drink he was talking about. "I want to get contacts."

"Why not just get your eyes fixed?" Severus was now looking at him.

Harry shrugged, but didn't respond verbally.

Severus finally let it drop and continued on, "I want to see a movie."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "A movie?"

"I have never seen one before."

"Never?"

"Have you?"

Harry thought back. There had been films shown in primary school, but he had never actually been to the cinema. "No….I want to play in a park."

A slight pause came as Severus thought of what next to say.

"I want to play the violin, again."

Harry couldn't help but smile a little. "I didn't know you played."

"I have not done so for many years."

"I want to hear you play."

"I am probably terrible now."

They grew silent again. The room was now glowing a pale red from the window. Harry remembered again that he should probably light that candle.

"It is your turn."

Harry blinked and looked back into dark eyes. "Huh?"

"Your turn. It appears that we are engaging in some sort of self-indulgent wishing diversion and it is now your turn."

The younger wizard furrowed his brow thinking back over the conversation. "No, it's not."

"I believe it is."

"It's your turn."

"I had already said that I wish to play the violin."

"And I said that I want to hear you play."

The Potions Master really did not know what to say to that. Well, besides, "Oh."

Harry's mouth fell into a lopsided smile. "See? It's your turn."

Severus cleared his throat. "So it would appear." He paused to think of what he would say next before replying, "I want to plant a garden."

"A garden?"

"An herb and potions garden," the Potion Master shot back defensively.

"Fair enough. I want to learn how to whistle."

"You cannot whistle?"

Harry puckered his lips together in the way he had been told by countless people before and blew. Only a faint, extremely breathy, single toned whistle came through. "That's about the best I can do."

Severus watched the teens lips come together in the miserable attempt at whistling, but really he only could think about is that Harry had a very interesting shade of pink lips. It was almost red.

Why was he trying to ascertain the exact shade of the young wizard's lips?

Severus gave a small cough to clear his throat. "Stop that sad attempt this instant." Harry's lips went back to normal.

'There, much better,' Severus thought with a small amount of triumph.

"I will teach you."

That just did not come out of Severus Snape's mouth.

"Really?" Harry asked in amusement, "Others have tried and failed."

So, apparently, Severus was teaching the teen how to whistle. "These, 'others' must have been idiots…. I want to write a book."

"Like a real book?"

"No, the fake kind. Yes, a real book you little nuisance."

"What I mean is, not a potions text?" Harry asked as he drew his feet up under him in the chair.

"No."

"So, it would be a novel. You want to write a novel. What about?"

Severus shook his head. He had never even been so foolish enough as to voice this particular desire aloud before, let alone give himself the indulgence to give it more than a second thought. "I do not know."

"Well, you can always write about what you know."

"If that is a jab about another potions text then you have—"

"No. no, no," Harry quickly set out to clarify, "I mean being a spy."

The Potions Master gave one of his better scoffs. "There is far too much drivel out there about such a topic."

"Yea, but how many of them were actually double agents?"

"Perhaps they were just more adequate at keeping their identity a secret."

"Ah, but then, why would they be writing a book?" Harry retorted.

"I am not going to write about being a spy."

"What about a romance novel?"

"Would you just take your turn?" Severus snapped. There would be no way in the seven levels of Hell that he would ever write a romance novel.

"Fine, fine. Spoil Sport. I want to play in the rain."

"Must you always be so infantile?" Severus asked in exasperation as he reached over to retrieve his wand to cast a warming charm.

Harry just shrugged. "I never got to play in the rain before…besides quidditch. Did you ever play in the rain?"

"And catch my death of cold?"

"You weren't thinking that at five."

"Perhaps…" Severus pondered what else he wished for his life. He could practically hear the blasted twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes—and that is saying something since it is a damn twinkle—over the fact that he was conversing like this with Harry.

Oh, well.

He could be arsed to care.

"I want to box."

Harry blinked, surely he had heard that completely wrong. "You…you want to what?"

"Box."

"I—really?" Harry asked in still complete confusion. "Like right now?"

"Yes, right now. This very second. No, you little idiot, not right now!" Severus said as he glared at the teen, "But in the near future."

"Er, won't that be kinda hard to do with your condition?"

"I do not care."

"Well, maybe I do," Harry said in exasperation, not realizing the omission.

Severus growled in the back of his throat and threw a glare at the teen curled up in the chair. Had had it up to his neck about his condition. "If anything, it will only even the odds between us by a marginal amount."

Harry fought hard not to smile at the comment. It was funny. It was typical Slytherin bravado and Severus snark, but Harry couldn't smile. He had a pretty sure feeling that Severus was totally serious with his statement. Some of his merriment must have leaked through somehow, because Severus growled yet again.

"You may think this is funny, but I am not going to have my life completely altered by three psychopaths who are following a megalomaniac. I am tired of staying in a bed. I am tired of wearing pajamas, I am tired of having my life outside of my own hands, and I am tired of tired of needing help, I AM TIRED OF IT!!!"

Harry leaned back in his chair, a little alarmed by the raise in volume in the other man's voice. He had known that Severus was frustrated with all of this, but apparently it had gotten to the limit for the taller wizard. Harry couldn't help but worry if perhaps he had helped with that.

"Now," Severus brought Harry out of his thoughts with a much quieter and seemingly calmer voice, "Take. Your. Turn."

Harry knew an order when he heard one. For the life of him though, he couldn't think of anything to say.

"I want…" he was at a lost. Then, something just slipped out. "I want to fall in love."

Oh.

Shit.

Harry looked down at his hands and began internally beating the living daylights out of himself for such a statement.

It was the truth. Lord, was it the truth. Probably one of the most truest things he could or would ever say. He wanted what Ron and Hermione had. He could not believe though, that he had just shared such a personal thing with Severus. Not only because he knew that he would be berated for his 'sappy Gryffindor idiocies,' that the once head of Slytherin house never seemed to tolerate well, but because this very personal admission left him feeling uncomfortable and defenseless to anything. Everything.

He waited for the response, but waited in vain for several minutes. He finally managed to look back at the serious wizard and found him staring down at his quilt, nodding silently. Harry didn't know if he was nodding in agreement with him, or just nodding in acknowledgement. Either way, Harry relaxed as he realized he was not going to be ostracized for being sappy.

"I want to travel," Severus said as he looked up into green eyes.

Harry waited for what he thought was the rest of the sentence. When nothing else came he replied, "To where?"

"Anywhere," Severus said simply as he looked down again. He did not care where he went, just so long as he was able to go.

"Oh. I bet anywhere is nice."

Severus looked over at the young wizard. He had assumed the comment made had been in another of Harry's ineffective attempts at humor. However, when his eyes met the teens face, he met no smirk or mirth. Green eyes were staring almost unseeingly out the window and the boy's mouth was slack in lost thoughts.

"I want to see the ocean," Harry said quietly as he continued to gaze at the grimy class.

The Potion Master sighed, "I do as well."

"You've never been?"

"No."

"Oh."

The red light from the window almost made one forget how gray the room was normally. Harry didn't feel much like playing this game anymore. He had thought at first that it would be okay it would be okay—fun maybe even—to voice such wishes about their lives. He had always kept such things quite, feeling guilty for what he thought was selfish thoughts during a war and he knew for certain that Severus was not the type to do such a thing. His—their—everyone's goal was to help the wizarding world from the evil threat of Voldemort. But…but it was okay to have these wants. To look forward to something in life. Not just as a general for everyone, but for yourself. That is what makes human beings what they are—self-awareness. It just seemed like Harry was now finally able to become more self-aware. The teen briefly wondered if Severus was feeling the same way.

"I want to lie down," Harry said.

He ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to calm his racing mind, but all it seemed to do was make his hair fall more into his eyes, reminding him of even more change as he looked at the shock of grey and black hair. He leaned his head forward to rest on the edge of the mattress.

Would he get to do any of the things he wanted? Would he start making these changes from the life he use to live to this new, very different life that seemed to be closing in around him on all sides only for life to be halted—ended—by this war. Would he die, just as he was figuring out how to live?

Would Severus?

Would any of them?

His bed seemed so far away.

Severus looked down at the crown of messy, ebony and silver hair that partially resembled a wild-hair kniffler from this angle. The Potion Master had known such thoughts would lead to melancholy. They always did. He knew exactly what was going through Harry's mind right now. Not because of Legilimency, but because it was running through his mind as well. He continued to look down at what the world sometimes only saw as the savior, just as they only saw him as the Death Eater. He made a decision. Despite the fact that his brain was telling him it was a very bad idea and especially despite the fact that his body had decided it was a very good idea, Severus acted on the decision.

"Get in," he all but growled as he continued to have his inner battle over doing this.

Harry looked up to see Severus shifting over under the covers on the bed. He couldn't possibly mean what Harry thought he meant.

"Huh?"

"You will rest here…for a time." Severus did not know why he added on that part at the end. It seemed he was more telling himself of the fact than Harry. "I knew from the moment we began this little exchange that it would turn you into a simpering, sentimental Gryffindor."

"Thanks," Harry said deadpan.

"You wish to lie down, so lie down." It was said like he had giving an order, succinct and curt, as though to try and prove that Severus felt more confidence in this situation and his decision, something that he was still debating even now. Why was he subjecting himself like this? To possible bodily reactions and inappropriate thoughts about a child—boy—teenager—young man—whatever the hell Harry was now. Pick any one. It is still inappropriate.

"Uhhhh…" Harry thought that there was a very good chance that this was a bad idea. He was still trying to deal with some very weird thoughts and feelings when it came to Severus—a fact that giving the man three baths so far had only exacerbated—and the thought of sharing a bed with him, even if it was just for a bit, made Harry's head spin.

"If you would rather return to your own quarters—"

"No!"

Well, that was said a little louder than need be.

Harry cleared his throat. "No," he said in a quieter volume, "I could lie down here. I mean, it's just for a bit, yea?"

"I should hope so," Severus replied with the same, somewhat false bravado of confidence in the situation, "Anything longer would be unacceptable. You snore."

Harry stood from the chair only to sit right back down on the edge of the bed, feeling the mattress sink under his weight, and toed off his trainers. If he had heard the snoring comment, he wasn't reacting to it.

When his shows were finally off, he awkwardly laid down on the edge of the bed; keeping is body stiff and ill at ease. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Severus was also as far away on the bed as could be.

The teen let a sigh quietly slip past his lips.

Well, this was fun and awkward.

He should just go. Besides, he should probably go downstairs and see if Hermione needed him to do anything or at the least he needed to make—

Wait.

He wanted to lie down.

Why can't he?

Harry made a conscious effort and relaxed down into the pillow some. Immediately, his nose was assaulted with the smell of the shampoo Severus had been using—or rather, the shampoo Harry had been washing Severus's hair with—and a very unique and very different scent that took Harry a second to decide as just Severus and another second to decide that he liked the smell.

Lords, he was weird.

He relaxed some more and rolled over onto his side to face the Potion Master. Harry was surprised to find dark, intense eyes staring at him.

The acuteness of the man's eyes seemed to become the catalyst that caused Harry's face and neck to heat.

"Okay," Harry said as he shifted a little on the bed. He didn't think he was brave enough to get under the covers.

Severus arched an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"Yea, okay. We'll box. You want to, so we will."

The older wizard gave almost a martyr's sigh. "In the Grand Scheme of things—"

"I am tired of the Grand Scheme," the teen said as he closed his eyes. "Let's just worry about the Grand Right Now."

"There is a war going on," came the clipped reply. "If you are suggesting that—"

Harry opened his eyes and whatever Severus was about to say died on his tongue as he was once again struck by the anomalous eye color. The young man reached up to take off his glasses and turned to place them on the nightstand. As he did this, he began to speak quietly.

"I know that Severus. I know there is a war. I am not saying the rest of the world should go hang and only think about ourselves and what we get out of this. Or is that what you think of me?"

The question was not said in anger.

Harry didn't feel angry.

He turned back to Severus on the bed, now only seeing a blur of black and pale.

"The only thing I mean is that—that we should try to do what we can, while we can. We can't loose ourselves completely to this war, can we? Otherwise, when it's over, there will be nothing left."

Harry sighed, hitting his head back against the pillow. He didn't think he was making sense.

"I don't think I am making any sense."

Yes, that fact has already been established.

The young wizard decided to try again. "I just mean," he said as he looked up at the ceiling, "that we should try to do some of the things we want to do if we are able to do them because who knows for how long we are going to be able to do them."

It was just getting more and more messed up in Harry's mouth. Closing his eyes, he imagined that he was making a grand idiot out of himself.

"Never mind, I—"

"No. You are accurate in your observation," Severus said quietly.

Harry opened his eyes to turn back to the blurry blob formerly known as Severus. He couldn't really tell if the man was still looking at him, but it really didn't matter. "Wha—"

"Rest, Harry."

"But—"

"I thought you were wanting to rest. This, in case you need clarification, is not resting, it is conversing. Rest."

As if what the older man had said had been a direct order, Harry felt his eyes beginning to droop; or maybe they had already been like that and he just now noticed. He turned back again until he was once more on his side facing Severus.

"Kay," the teen replied faintly.

"You are only suppose to rest here. Do not fall asleep."

"I won't"

Severus watched as the young man closed his eyes and quietly fell asleep.

'Typical,' the Potions Master thought as he adjusted the covers as best as he could with another person lying atop of them. 'Now I will have to wake up the little nuisance if I will ever want to sleep myself.'

He took the time to take in the messy-haired teens appearance now that he would not be interrupted. He looked so much different without his glasses. So unguarded.

Vulnerable even.

'Perhaps the boy should get contacts or his vision repaired.'

Then everyone would see his face without those hideous glasses.

Everyone would see him like this…

'Perhaps he should not get rid of the glasses,' Severus promptly thought.

He kept his eyes on the teens face, not realizing that his own eyelids were growing heavier and heavier until they finally closed with final thoughts of wishes and wants as he joined the younger man in slumber.

'I will only rest my eyes.'

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry wasn't in his room.

Now, this wasn't an unheard of occurrence. Ron and Hermione had to often play, "Find the Potter" over their years of friendship, from his midnight strolls around Hogwarts to his more recent hide and go seek approach to meditation. At first, that had been what Rod had thought had happened when he went in that morning to find Harry's room empty; that his friend had finally decided to meditate once again. Harry had been wary and avoided meditating after the whole red area incident. Everyone wondered what would happen if he went back to that place, but no one was going to push Harry just to sate curiosity. However, on closer inspection, Ron ruled out the idea that his friend had woken up early since the bed was made and the room was clean. Kreacher didn't come through the upstairs rooms until the afternoon, which meant that the room was still clean from the day before.

Let the game of Find the Potter begin.

He had checked the drawing room, kitchen, library, attic, and the kitchen again, but that was more to get some breakfast. Finally, he admitted defeat and asked the expert.

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Did you try Mister Snape's room?"

Ron couldn't decide what to do first, kiss Hermione, or smack himself in the forehead. He figured that Hermione wouldn't appreciate doing both at the same time, so he leaned in and kissed his girlfriend on her forehead. A great combination of his two choices and he didn't have a headache afterwards.

"You are a genius!"

"So I have been told," Hermione said with a smirk, she went back to reading the recent issue of _The Quibbler, _rotating it upside down in order to finish her article.

Ron dashed up the stairs and into the small guestroom.

Where he stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway at the sight that greeted him.

And ran back downstairs and back to the kitchen.

"Hermione!" He whispered desperately as he came up by her side again.

Hermione sighed and put down her magazine yet again. She looked up at the tall red-head. "What?" she whispered back.

"Come 'ere."

"What?" Hermione asked again in a normal voice. "What's going on? Did you find Harry?"

"Yes! Now come on!"

"Where?"

"You have to see this!"

Ron grabbed Hermione's arm and took her out and up the stairs. As they got closer to the first landing, Hermione began to question again what was going on, but Ron quickly shushed her and pointed towards Snape's door.

Hermione, none too impressed for being shushed, glared at Ron for a moment before marching up to the open door and right into the room.

Where she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her.

And smiled.

There on the bed, lay her best friend and her former potions professor. Harry was half lying on Snape, with one of his arms flung over the man's stomach and his head resting against the man's chest. Snape, for his part, had moved halfway out of the covers during the night and now had his head tilted towards the young man laying to his right. Hermione noticed that Harry was still wearing his clothes from the day before and lying atop the covers. She surmised that what had started out as a catnap for the two men had turned into—well, this.

If she only had a camera. This was almost too good.

"Well?!" Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin as Ron came up and whispered urgently in her ear.

She rounded and looked up at the youngest male Weasley. "Well what?"

Ron's eyes widened, he began to wave his hand widely at the bed, but still kept his voice quiet. "They slept together!"

"So?"

"So!"

"Yes, do you have a point?"

"I—don't—know. Does this mean they are together?"

"I don't think so."

"But they—"

"Ron, don't be an idiot. Harry is fully clothed and sleeping on top of the covers. Does this look like a night of passion to you?"

"Hermione!" the red-head whispered, scandalized.

The young witch didn't buy it though. She knew some of the things that Ron could say. "Well?"

Ron's head was starting to hurt. It was excessively early for this kind of thing. "But I thought you said that Harry liked Snape?"

"I did."

"Then what is going on here?"

"Harry still doesn't know."

"That's—"

The two teens stopped talking as they heard movement coming from the bed in front of them. They turned to see their long time friend blink awake slowly, rose up and sat up on the mattress looking around myopically until he realized what was amiss and reached over to the nightstand to retrieve his glasses.

He looked around the room, obviously confused about the time of day. It had been night when he had laid down. Had he really slept that long? He looked down at the other wizard in the bed and realized that yes, indeed he had slept here all night and that it may have been one of the better sleeps he had ever had. It was then that a slight movement caught his eye and he turned to see his two friends in the doorway.

Busted.

"Morning guys," he croaked. Trying his best to act like this was no big deal. That he had not just slept all night in the same room with their former professor.

And liked it.

Getting out of bed proved a chore and he ended up stumbling out, nearly falling if it weren't for his chair that was still right beside the bed. He righted himself and looked back at Ron and Hermione. The brown haired witch had a smirk on her face where the redhead looked kind of lost. Heavens only knew what the two were thinking.

"Morning Harry," Hermione said brightly, but was still aware that there was still a man asleep in the room. "Would you like some breakfast? You can bring some up to Mister Snape later."

Harry blinked. "Uh, yea, sure. That sounds good."

He grabbed his shoes and quickly followed his friends out into the hallway and down to the kitchen. They passed by a mirror on the way and Harry nearly groaned as he saw that his silver and black hair was practically standing straight up. He looked like a complete doofus and was surprised that Ron had yet to make fun of him. In fact, Ron had yet to say anything.

Which made Harry somewhat nervous.

He tried to smooth his hair down as he sat down to the kitchen table. Almost immediately a cup of coffee appeared in front of him.

Alright, it didn't so much as appear as Hermione set it down in front of him.

But it was magical nonetheless.

"Thank you," he said gratefully as he brought the hot brew to his mouth.

Ron came and sat down across from him with a plate of eggs and toast. He didn't eat though, just continued to look at Harry.

Said teen kept cutting his eyes to his taller friend and tried t focus more on his coffee.

Finally, it seemed Ron could not take it anymore. He set down his fork, that he was not really using, and leaned on the table with his elbows.

"Harry, mate, can we ask you a personal question?"

Both Harry and Hermione looked at Ron at this.

"You want to do this now?" Hermione asked in surprise. She was sure that Ron would put this off for at least another week.

"Do what?" Harry said. He had a feeling he was going to need a lot more coffee.

Hermione sighed. She could really kill Ron sometimes. 'Oh, well. What's done is done. Just have to make the best of it.'

"Harry," Hermione said gently as she sat down beside Harry at the table, "to what thought have you given sexuality."

Green eyes looked at her in a blank stare.

"Huh?"

Ron decided he'd give it a go. "Okay, Uh…uh…Are you bent?"

"Ron!" If Hermione could, she would have smacked him right then and there. He was completely uncouth.

"What? Sorry!"

Harry looked at both of his friend's a few times. He seemed to be frozen except for his eyes.

"Harry? Did you hear what I said?"

"Yea," the teen replied as he looked down at his coffee.

"Well…are you?"

Hermione groaned and buried her head in hands. "I swear to the heavens, Ron—"

"Why," Harry asked as he looked up from his drink, "why are you asking?"

Time to regain some tact, Hermione decided. She leaned over the table to gain Harry's attention, holding his green gaze. She wished that Ron had waited. Harry looked like he was about ready to bolt.

"Harry, over the past few months it has become apparent that there is a connection between you and Mister Snape. We know that you consider yourselves friends, but have you ever considered the possibility that you are attracted to the man?"

"Huh? Wait—what? No! There isn't anything going on between me and Severus!"

"There is nothing to be ashamed of." Hermione placed what she hoped was a comforting on her friends shoulder.

"Of course there is nothing to be ashamed of, because there is nothing there. We are friends. That's all."

Harry tried and failed at what was meant to be a reassuring smile and quickly took a too large drink of still hot coffee, causing him to choke.

"I have to go," he finally said hoarsely as he got up from the table. "I should shower and get ready for the day."

He made a beeline for the door.

"Mate?"

Against his better judgment, Harry stopped and turned around.

"Just," Ron sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck, "Just know that it's okay if you do like the overgrown bat. Yea?"

The green eyed wizard opened and closed his mouth several times.

"I…I have to go."

Exit, stage get-the-hell-outa-here.

Hermione and Ron watched as their shorter friend dashed out of the kitchen, leaving a half drunk cup of coffee and his shoes behind.

"Well," Ron finally said, "That went well."

Hermione groaned again and laid her head down on the table.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"This is so incredibly not safe…" Harry said for the hundredth time as he laced up one of his red gloves.

"You agreed to do this, did you not? I believe that this whole 'Doing what we want while we can,' is your idea."

"Yes, that's true," Harry conceded as he watched the other man finish putting on his red gloves. True he could stand and move pretty well on his own now, but this was the first time he had been out of the house and Harry had a feeling that apparating had taken its toll on the Potion Master. "But now that we're here and doing this—"

"You cannot back out."

"I can't hit you," the teen replied as he walked over to the man. He noticed that his footsteps were now much quieter now that the grass was turning green with spring.

"Fine. Then stand there and allow me to hit you."

Harry just barely ducked as a red fist swung around to his head.

Okay, so Severus was playing for keeps.

When the day began, Harry didn't think that they would be doing this. They had come out to their usual training field where for two hours Severus barked out orders and Harry tried to focus his magic to do specific tasks. He had managed to move a rather impressive sized rock around the field and brought on a quite impressive windstorm that managed to mess up Severus's hair quite comically.

However, after fixing his hair, Severus said that they were done with the training for the day and promptly pulled out the bag of shrunken gloves from his pocket. The rest, as they say, is history; or, as it would appear, the present.

Harry's feet moved around as he blocked another swing, but failed to get out of the way of a right hook to his side.

Harry never really swung, most of what he did was block the hits that Severus through and worked on his footwork. He didn't know for certain if his opponent knew that he really wasn't fighting back. Maybe it didn't matter. All Harry knew was that, even though he wasn't fighting back, his head was already seeming to clear of all the clutter that had been building up. It was nice to only have to worry about when and where the next hit was coming from. The same seemed to be true for Severus, who's face had become more relaxed as the boxing match progressed. Harry also noticed though, that as it progressed, the distinct look that Harry had come to recognize as tiredness also made its way onto the Potion Master's expression. The teen tried after that to keep on the alert in case Severus needed help.

Sure enough, several hits and blocks later, the physical activity finally caused Severus a great enough expense and during an upper left hook, his balance left him.

Harry reached out instinctively to catch the falling man, but this time, his footing was not right and he too became overbalanced with the extra weight and fell backwards with the Potion Master in his arms.

Twin sounds of "OOOF!" filled the forest clearing.

Harry felt all the air leave his body, as not only he met a decidedly hard bit of ground, but having Severus land on top of him didn't help either. The teen gasped for breathe as the world spun for a few seconds. When everything righted itself, he was nose to nose with Severus, staring into his dark-as-pitch eyes.

Somehow, by some cruel and unjust twist of physics Harry decided, they had happened to fall where Harry's legs were all akimbo and Severus was positioned right between them, pressing their hips together. Harry just really hoped his body would behave itself.

The two didn't move for what felt like an eternity.

On the other hand, it could have only been ten seconds.

Then, Severus decided to move to move in an effort to get up, shifting his hips upward as he did so.

Without warning, a jolt of pleasure shot through Harry and before he could stop it, before he even knew it was coming, a breathy, squeaky moan escaped passed his lips.

Severus stopped his movements and stared down at Harry, who's eyes had widened t the size of tea cups.

'Oh, God, what did I just do?'

Worse than that, the movement had done more than cause the terrible sound he had just uttered, Harry realized that the friction was causing his body into thinking that something interesting was going on and it wanted to come out and play. With Severus pressed up so close, the teen was sure the other man could feel him hardening from the simple, completely platonic touch.

But then, Harry noticed an answering hardness there to greet him.

Oh.

That was Severus's—

And he is…

'Is he turned on by this too?'

Harry felt like he was about to pass out from sensory overload when the taller wizard atop of him rolled over onto the ground and sat up, dusting himself off.

"I will require your assistance in standing up. I believe we are done boxing for the day."

The man sounded casual. Calm. Like what had just taken place had never happened. Like he had not gotten an erection while lying on top of someone who was only suppose to be his friend.

Maybe there was nothing to it.

Maybe it was all in Harry's head.

He knew just how involuntary the body could be. Perhaps Severus's reaction just now was simply just that. A reaction.

He was reading too much into this. There was nothing going on.

They were friends.

"Yea, okay," the teen finally replied as he awkwardly stood and helped his sparring partner up off the ground.

They began gathering cloaks and jumpers and put away the gloves, all the while Harry helping Severus walk so he would not fall again. Severus made no protest for the help. In fact, the man was silent, his face unreadable. Unbeknownst to the two wizards, their eyes were alternately glancing back at the other when they were sure not to get caught. The ability to finally be outside on a sunny day and the return to at least somewhat normal activities forgotten as they both tried desperately to legitimize what happened in the their own minds.

'We are only friends,' Harry chanted in his head. It had seemed to become his mantra over the past few days. Ever since the conversation with Ron and Hermione.

They were just friends.

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Thank you so much for reading Chapter 12!

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Teasers for next chapter:

Why do you always call me little?

You went to the red area again, didn't you?

You may fight again.

Where's Dumbledore?

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Reviews are loved!!


	14. From Green to Grey

**A/N: **I honestly have no great excuse this time, other than real life has gotten to be a bear (smarter than the average bear) and I have developed some bad habits with my writing. One habit that I thought was great at the time was I carried around a notebook to work wrote out over half of this chapter long hand. The only problem was that I didn't want to go home basically rewrite what I had just done. No more of that.

Thank you all so incredibly much for your patience. I get reviews that are so encouraging that say that they check daily for updates to this story and I feel I let you down. Thank you readers for your understanding. You guys are so awesome!

This chapter is un-betaed. I wanted to post this so badly since I feel guilty for making you wait so long that as soon as I finished it, I posted it. I have sent a copy to my ever patient beta **Invader Shawn**, so don't blame her for the mistakes. They are all mine. In face, she is probably shaking her head at me for not giving her any time, but I am impatient and want to post it nnooooowwwww...oh. ahem. That wasn't a whiney voice. Nope. Don't even know what you are talking about...

* * *

Chapter 13: From Green to Grey

* * *

_My hair hasn't turned fuchsia, has it? – Harry Potter _

Harry's in the kitchen.

Now, before there are scoffs and mutters as to the inanity of this statement or even have someone go so far as to finish the statement with a sung, "with Dinah¹," please know that the uselessness of this statement on its own is well documented in the logs of useless things and sayings. Though this volume is very large, and getting larger by the minute, this is most definitely present. It can be found right after the entry for those little foot booties for cats. Sure, they look cute, but what purpose to they really serve?

So to clarify, Harry's in the kitchen cooking supper.

Ah, this could be considered somewhat noteworthy, considering that Harry cooking meant good food on the way. In fact, right now, the house smelled like the chicken that Harry had searing in the large skillet on the stove and a small pudding he had just placed in the oven. In a few minutes, the smell of steamed vegetables would also join the mix.

Now—to get further into specifics than that—Harry's in the kitchen cooking supper and dancing.

Here is something a little less useless to write about!

Let there be an understanding, first and foremost, that it was not like Harry was doing any sort of waltz, tango, or ballet around the room. No, he did not have the rhythm for such things. He did, however, tend to bob his head, tap his toes, and do a move he had seen on the Dursley's television once that was known as, "The Twist," when he was alone in the kitchen. He didn't know when he had picked up on this habit, though he suspected it was after he had seen the dance on the T.V. When he was younger, he did not like to cook. He was not allowed to leave the kitchen while cooking, so he would often find himself bored out of his mind waiting on water to boil or bread to rise.

So, he started to dance.

It became a sort of game with his relatives unknowingly participating. A game that continued on during the summers in between Hogwarts.

Since his aunt, cousin, and especially his uncle could not tolerate to be in the same room with him any longer than they needed to be, they would often dart in and out of the kitchen while he was in there until dinner was served. The game involved Harry dancing around in place while they were gone and then going back to normal when they entered the room. Vernon and Dudley were pretty easy, since they mostly stomped around the house. Aunt Petunia was a completely different story and he often congratulated himself after she came blowing through the room quietly except a slight huff when she saw Harry stirring the sauce.

Odd?

Sure.

Slight waste of time and effort?

Maybe.

Entertaining as hell to a boy who, up until he was eleven, had lived in a cupboard?

Abso-bleedin-lutely.

Even though he hadn't been at the Dursley's residence for over a year, he still would find himself in front of the stove, making little dances.

Like he was doing now.

The knack he had for being able to stop on a seconds notice still served him well; he could still go back to normal whenever Ron or Hermione came into the room, though there wasn't much of a game to it anymore. Unlike the Dursleys, Ron and Hermione would stay in the kitchen and keep him company usually. His two friends thought he was weird enough already though, so forget about them actually learning that danced in front of kitchen appliances when no one was watching.

Harry sighed as he stopped his little dance to turn the chicken. After that, he didn't resume the half-way-resembles-a-mini-one-person-conga, but turned around and leaned against the counter to the right of the stove.

Recently, anytime his friends had been around him Harry had had to deal with funny looks along with discussions about Severus.

Well, that really wasn't all true.

Hermione had stopped being direct and had switched to dropping hints. Or at least Harry thought she was. The young, curly haired witch was sometimes just a little too subtle with her insinuations and questions; often Harry left from talking with her knowing that something had happened, but he just wasn't sure what.

Ron was about as delicate in the matter as a bludger to the head. Things would start out normal enough, discussing training or quidditch, but then the redhead would stop the conversation completely and oh-so-sneakily switch the topic to Severus. This was usually done with the phrase, "So, you pulled Snape, yet?" or something to that effect. That's when Harry leaves the room to Ron asking, "What? What did I say?"

Yes, that is what he had to deal with when his friends were there.

Not that they were there right now.

Hadn't been for two days.

The two were on another recon mission with Tonks and Kingsley; they couldn't have any contact whatsoever, leaving Harry wanting to crawl the walls in his anxiousness. He had tried to go with them on this assignment, but he had been refused.

Albus and Severus were still of the opinion that Harry still wasn't prepared to fight, no matter how passionately the younger wizard argued the opposite. That he was in control. That he had improved. Regardless of this, Severus still reported incidents of accidental magic and outbursts.

Tattletale.

The black and silver haired teen had tried again with the point that it was only a recon mission, no fighting. Everything should be fine. This was also shot down with the logic that encounters with Voldemort's Death Eaters have increased and the likelihood of discovery during this task was very high.

Harry wondered if they thought that using that logic would convince him to stay. If anything, hearing that made him argue even more that he needed to be out there. It had finally taken Ron and Hermione to get him to finally agree to stay behind once again.

This wasn't their fight.

It was his.

And he had said so.

Right before he had received a very stern lecture from Hermione about the insanity and stupidity of thinking that he could fight a whole war by himself.

Stupid or not, what if something happened?

What if they were ambushed?

Outnumbered?

Harry quickly shook his head, trying to chase the thoughts away. Hermione and Ron were more than capable. In addition, they were with two highly experienced and powerful Aurors. If there were a fight, then they would be okay.

Right?

Harry turned and looked up at the clock on the wall. There were several wizards' clocks all over the house, but Harry had insisted on having a few regular timepieces throughout. When he had started supper, it was close to the estimated arrival time of the mission party, now, the food was almost done and there was neither sign nor word from his friends.

The ebony and silver haired teen turned and looked at the pit of water that he was to boil in order to steam the veggies. It was the last thing to do before the meal was deemed ready.

Ready.

He was ready.

Granted, he knew it wasn't as precise as steaming vegetables on the stove—here, Harry had the mental image of himself as a carrot—but he was tired of making progress in leaps and bounds and yet still being told that he needed to wait. That he wasn't ready. Still didn't have enough control.

Harry turned the element on, and then stared at the pot of water.

Control, his right shoe!

The young wizard set his jaw and concentrated, feeling the now familiar flow of magic that had almost a comforting effect on him.

The water began to boil.

"See," Harry spoke aloud to the now very hot pot, "I could always cook Voldemort."

That caused a particularly gross mental image.

Harry shuddered and pulled a face.

'Or not.'

Harry placed the raw vegetable to let them cook for a minute or two, placing the lid on the top. Quickly, his mind began to drift to other, random, and unimportant thoughts that all humans, and many an animal, vegetable and mineral, are susceptible to, and without realizing it, his body began to move on its own accord to some unknown, but perfectly natural internal beat. Soon he was bobbing his head and twisting his hips, swaying slightly from side to side.

Finally, on to the last part of the sentence sequencing development for today.

Harry's in the kitchen cooking dinner and dancing…

And he wasn't alone.

Severus watched from the doorway as supposedly the most powerful wizard in all of Great Britain, possibly the entire world, danced in a kitchen. He wondered is Sybil Trelawney had seen this when she had made her fateful prediction all those years ago. He doubted it. If she had, the word, "abnormal," would have been mentioned more than once in the prophesy.

The taller wizard was actually quite surprised by the action. When he had come down here from his room—he had started to go even against Harry's wishes that he not take the stairs by himself—to inquire as to dinner and to once again prove that he was physically stable and his one too many nursemaids were simply misinformed. Things had been strained between them since the…incident during training, but Severus was of the mind that there was nothing to talk about. Obviously, Harry agreed. They simply went about as though the whole thing had never happened. For the best really.

He had stopped in the doorway without so much of a word to the sight of the young, green-eyed wizard dancing around in front of the large stove in the middle of the room.

At first, he had thought there was something terribly wrong with the smaller man, like he had burned himself, but then, the teen stopped his movements, becoming very still and staring off at the backsplash behind the oven. That was when Severus amended his reasoning. There was something wrong with him, all right, but it wasn't a physical injury. He then caught a glimpse of Harry's face as his profile became visible when the ex-Gryffindor turned to look at the clock on the wall.

The first thing that came to Severus mind was anxious.

The boy was anxious.

The boy was always anxious these days.

The more his friend's went off on missions and fights without him, the more anxious Harry became.

The more anxious he would become.

And the harder he trained.

Their sessions had doubled in length, the only reason they did not triple being that Harry worried that Severus needed rest. Severus never said anything to the contrary, despite the blow to his pride, because it was Harry that needed the rest more. Physically and magically depleted, Harry would insist on Helping Severus up the stairs, where he would then proceed to crash on Severus's bed. The Potion Master wondered how much sleep the teen was getting, because he also would catch Harry asleep in random parts of the house. On couches, at the kitchen table and even in the hallways. Severus was under the impression that the teen anxiousness and worry was keeping him up at night and he would run himself ragged until he finally just dropped where he stood. In fact, Severus was willing to place galleons on the bet that his bed was the only one Harry every slept in nowadays.

He should tell the little whelp to go back to his own bed.

But he never did.

The dark eyed wizard was finally brought from his musings for a moment when he felt the rush of magical energy that he now so easily associated with Harry blow through the room. He was unsure what the young man had used his magic for, but he ventured a guess when only a second later he heard the sound of water boiling rapidly. Severus then heard Harry mutter something, but from as far away as he was, he was only able to make out the words, "cook" and "Voldemort." He could only guess what had actually been said as the boy gave a full body shudder and then went back to tending supper.

And began to dance again.

The Potions Master watched for a few, long minutes. Harry was by no means a dancer by any stretch of the term and it seemed that the beat he was moving to would change sporadically, but that did not stop Severus from becoming almost hypnotized by the young man's movements.

More specifically, Harry's arse.

A revelation that, when finally made by Severus a few more long minutes later, made him feel like a fool and a dirty old man.

He did not stop staring.

He did not make his presence known, either.

It was not until the young wizard did a very amateur version of a pirouette that Severus's not-so-covert hiding place was discovered.

As Harry turned, he could have sworn on his Firebolt that there was a dark figure in the doorway behind him, but he chucked that up to his imagination. He hadn't heard anyone walking up. However, as he turned around for the second time, he stopped facing said doorway and let out a little gasp as he realized that he was indeed not alone.

"Wha—" Harry's eyes widened and, without thinking of what he was doing or where he was going, he took a few steps back.

Right into the stove, tipping the pot of boiling water, and sending some of the scalding liquid spill out and onto the teen's back.

Harry hissed out as the water hit him, wishing he had worn more layers of clothing to protect himself.

Things seemed to happen quite rapidly after that. Severus advanced in only a few, very hurried steps, causing Harry's eyes to widen even further—if that was even possible.

"You are supposedly supposed to save us all and yet you have to be the clumsiest little nitwit ever to be encountered!" Severus said as he promptly took the teen by the shoulders, turned him around, and lifted the damp, vegetable smelling shirt to inspect the now angry, red skin.

Harry just stared forward mutely for a moment as he tried to process what was happening. His irritated skin didn't even enter his mind; even the fact that Severus had all but hauled his shirt clear off didn't take precedent. No, what he was really worried about was—

"How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough," Severus replied as he cast a mild healing charm and lowered the green-eyed teen's shirt.

Harry wanted to ask how long that was, but he had a sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer to his question.

"Does the rest of the wizarding world know that their hero dances in front of inanimate objects?"

There.

He knew it.

Harry let out a groan. "Only if you tell them."

"I doubt they would believe such a thing."

Harry just shrugged. "They all think I am absolutely nutters anyway."

"That is not the actions of a crazy person," Severus said as he sat down at the kitchen table.

"Oh, isn't it now?"

"No, it is moronic."

"And here I was worried. What are you doing spying on me?" the young wizard asked as he turned to open the oven door to check the pudding.

Severus snorted with as much derision as possible and averted his eyes as the teen bent over to check the supper. "I was not spying. You could hardly call what you were doing covert. I was simply walking through the house and happened upon that little scene you call dancing."

"It's called the twist."

"I know what the twist is, and that was not the twist."

"Artistic license?"

"It needs to be revoked."

Harry simply chuckled as shook his head. That only lasted for a minute though, when he finally processed another part of the conversation. "Hey, wait a mo; you were upstairs last I checked."

"Brilliant, Harry."

"You know you aren't supposed to take the stairs by yourself."

"I seemed to have managed just fine."

"Yea, this time. What happens next time when you fall?"

"I will not fall. I am in perfect control of my motor abilities," Severus said stiffly as he adjusted the sleeves of his shirt.

"You are going to hurt yourself again," Harry stated simply.

"That remains to be seen. Besides, I am merely taking my self-prescribed therapy to the next level. If I am to return to fighting line, then I need to stop being babied by some little nursemaid with a hero complex."

Harry furrowed his brow and brought his hands up on his hips. "How is it that you get to return to battle and I don't?"

"You are still not in complete control of your magic."

"Oh, that's—"

"While I admit," Severus interrupted before he could hear the oft-used arguments the teen presented, "Your powers and your ability to use them in situations has improved to an acceptable level—"

"Don't hurt yourself with that compliment, now," Harry said coolly.

Severus went on as though he had not heard anything, "You still become far too drained using powerful amounts of magic for a long period of time. You need to build up stamina. End of discussion."

"I'll show you stamina, you—" Harry stopped as he realized the innuendo that could accompany that statement and fought hard not to blush, thinking of quite a few things he could do that would show the older man he had stamina.

Damn it. Now he needed to change the subject.

Because thoughts of stamina along with Severus were leading to more of those odd, confusing, and far-too-frequent-now thoughts that he got when in the other man's presence.

He waved his hand quickly, turning all the knobs and dials on the stove off before he slid in the chair across the table from Severus, infinitely glad for its presence and help in this situation since his traitorous body had decided to react to his traitorous mind.

"Uh, so why do you call me little?"

It wasn't one of his better diversion plans, but it certainly wasn't one of the worse.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why do you call me little?"

"Because that is what you are."

"Yes, I know that, but you supposedly have this great command of the King's English, however anytime you insult me, you always call me little. I was just wondering why."

Severus blinked. "I—"

Then he stopped. He had never realized he had done such a thing. Now, flashes back of the countless times he had called the boy names entered his mind. Sure enough, the descriptive "little" was somewhere in the mix.

The taller man cleared his throat.

"Because that is what you are."

"You said that already."

"It bears repeating."

"I smell bullshit."

Severus cocked an eyebrow to the curse, but said nothing.

"Why do you call me little?"

"I have already given you my answer."

"No, you gave me a pat-answer. Now, tell me."

"Stubborn lit—"

Harry leaned over the table, he didn't know why he was picking this fight, it had started out as just a distraction, but he realized that there was more to this and he wasn't backing out now.

"Stubborn what?" he said as he placed both palms on the table, looking Severus right in the eyes. "What am I?"

"Little!" Severus growled out as he too slapped both of his hands down on the table and leaned across, as if accepting the challenge.

"You. Are. Little. You have been caged all your life and like any caged wild, exotic animal, you have only grown to fit your enclosure. If it were not for the miniscule amount of muscle, you have procured in your training efforts you would almost be considered petite. You inspire others to care and protect you, not thoughts of might and power.

Harry blinked a few times. His green eyes magnified by his glasses giving him the ruffled owl appearance. He knew there was an insult in there somewhere. In fact, since it was Severus there were probably multiple insults thrown in for good measure, but right now he was unable to care about those things because he had finally realized just how close his and Severus's faces were to one another and he just couldn't get one line out of his head.

"And—" Harry swallowed and subconsciously licked his lips. "And do I inspire thoughts of protection and care with you?"

Severus's eyes had moved downward to Harry's mouth at the first sign of the teen's pink tongue.

Harry found himself doing the same thing to Severus's thinner, slightly parted lips. Watched as they formed the words.

"I—"

The quiet of the moment was abruptly interrupted when the popping sounds of multiple apparations came from the front of the house. The sound easily and quite effectively scared the living daylights out of both Harry and Severus, who jumped back from the other as though they had been struck. The Potion Master turned in his chair to study a particularly dull painting of a bowl of fruit while the teen hero went to check on the food, not remembering that he had turned everything off earlier.

Not a few beats later, Ron, and Hermione walked into the room, followed by Tonks and Remus.

Well, Hermione, Remus and Tonks walked.

Ron limped.

Harry's ill feeling at seeing Remus, who wasn't even a part of the mission, compounded when he saw his best friend hobble into the kitchen.

"What happened to you?

Ron rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you too, ya nag."

"Sorry," Harry said as he went to greet each of his friends with a hug.

Severus merely gave a curt nod.

"Now," the green-eyed wizard replied when he was done hugging his tallest friend, "What the blazes happened to you?"

"Bit of a fight," Ron responded as he gingerly sat down in a chair at the table, Tonks and Remus joining him.

"A bit?!"

"It really wasn't that bad, Harry," Remus interjected. "Several of the Aurors were able to apparate in."

"That doesn't mean I shouldn't have been there?"

"Harry, I'm fine. Hermione was able to fix me up. I'm just a bit sore, is all. And hungry."

"But—" Harry tried again.

"Oh yes!" Hermione said as she went over beside Harry to look at the stove. "The food smells delicious. I'll just get to work dishing all this up!"

The conversation moved on quickly as the food was served. Severus was no fool. He knew a cover up when he saw one. Chances were very good that the battle had not bit just a "bit of a fight," and the Weasley boy was most likely a few shades worse that fine by the look of his pale skin, but the group had decided to put on a more optimistic standpoint in order to not worry Harry about it.

Severs looked over at the young man throughout dinner. By the look on his face, he was not buying the cover up either.

* * *

Harry's had just about all he can stand, thank you very much. He was more than through sitting back and watching as those he loved went off to fight and possibly never returned. He was through with everyone telling him that if he just waited a bit longer, that if he just kept training, that things would get better and he would be able to return to active combat instead of just sitting in a house, cooking and cleaning and going out of his mind.

He.

Was.

Through.

For the past few days, he had tried to wheedle any information he could from his fellow housemates about the battle that had taken place, but with no success. The subject kept being changed.

Ron still limped around the place, but insisted that he was right as rain.

Harry wasn't an idiot.

He might have been born at night, but it certainly wasn't last night.

He knew what had happened. Knew by the fact that Remus was sticking around and Ron and Hermione were practically inseparable, both acting like little lovesick teenagers. Which was what they were, but they only acted this bad right after a major battle.

Oh, yes.

Harry knew.

This was why he was sitting with his legs curled up under him on the floor in the middle of Grimmauld Place's dusty attic.

He was not going to just sit back any longer, despite what Dumbledore and Severs said.

He was not going to watch his friends be hurt or worse.

He was going to do something.

He was going back to the red area.

This was more than likely a colossally bad idea. In fact, in all the colossals of colossus, this one may just take the cake, but Harry didn't care. His reasoning was that if the red area was what threw his powers out of whack, maybe the red area could help put it back together again. Again, it was a terrible, awful, no-good, very bad idea; he was still doing it, though.

He had to.

Just had to remember how he did it.

Harry closed his eyes and opened his mind, hoping that some kind of resolution came from this.

He already knew that this time was vastly different from the previous times he meditated. Knew because he didn't even have to imagine chasing the snitch through the clouds. He just went right into the blue place.

Oh, how Harry had missed this. He had been so afraid of meditating because of the uncertainty of what would happen that he hadn't done it in what seemed like ages. He missed the calming feeling that washed over him in this blue haze that swirled and moved. That seemed almost a solid, liquid and gas all at the same time.

Harry knew it would not last, and mourned its loss as it eventually began to fade out to white.

The teen felt a surge of panic what felt like, in his mind, a few seconds later when the white place already began to change to pink.

He thought he would have more time. Before, Harry was in the white place at least a little while before it began to change. He hadn't even prepared himself. He had only just begun to feel the shocks and jolts of energy.

Had to do it.

Have to do it.

Harry pushed on through.

There was still what felt like an explosion when he entered the red area, the burst and shocks of energy now pulsed through him continuously, not just in little jolts. When this had happened before, he had only stayed in the red for a few seconds. Now, Harry struggled to stay there longer. To try to understand. Try to find some answer.

It felt like fire.

Not much of an answer.

Harry felt his back connect with something, the pain from that melding together with the burn he was already experiencing. No backing out though. There had to be something here that would help. Something. Anything.

Harry became aware of his actual body beginning to shake, violently so, and he tried his best to concentrate in order to get the shaking to stop, worried that it would bring him out of his meditation before it was time.

It was then that Harry realized what was wrong.

He was fighting it

Fighting the red area.

Fighting whatever the hell was causing this pain through his body.

His magic.

'Just accept it,' he thought as he willed his body to relax.

It took some time, but soon the shakes began to diminish, as did—surprisingly—the burn and jolts that had been jumping from every nerve of his body. There was still something there, a type of current, but it did not feel like something with which he was internally waging war.

He could actually get use to this. Where the blue space flowed and the white place swirled, this one seemed to dance, jump, and otherwise to feats of great acrobatics.

It was then that Harry heard his name. The voice seemed to be far off in the distance or like it was coming through a very narrow pipe. At first, the teen thought it was his imagination, but as the voice grew just a bit louder, he realized it was Hermione calling out to him.

Putting his mind to work again, Harry fought to leave the red area in a more peaceful means; the crackle and burn came back as he faded back to white, but soon the soothing blue marched on it and finally gave way to black.

Harry opened his eyes.

His name was still being called.

"Up here!" Harry hollered as he looked around. Boxes were overturned and papers were scattered everywhere. He also realized that he was not in his original location, but had his back against one of the far walls, a good ten yards or so from where he had originally sat down. A hand rubbing the back of his head told him that he wasn't bleeding, though. A good sign.

He stood on shaking legs and made his way to the door. No one knew that he had come up here before to meditate and the phrase, "up here," left something to be desired.

Harry was halfway down the top flight of stairs as Remus came bounding up to meet him, he stopped short though as he got closer to the teen wizard. A weird look overtaking his slightly scarred face.

"What?"

"You went to the red area again, didn't you?" Remus asked as he continued to stare.

"Yea, why? Did I turn the house upside down again? Cause if so, then Severus is going to have my hide."

"No. No. The house did shake, but it was only for a moment."

"Just a moment?"

"Yes."

Well, that didn't seem too bad. Though is always threw him off just how much actual time passed as opposed to the time in his meditation, if the house shaking for a moment then maybe he was in the clear.

Still…

With the way Remus was looking at him, Harry knew that his little trip to the red area had left some sort of visible mark on him yet again.

Great. His hair probably had even more gray in it now.

Or worse, it was white.

Hermione and Ron finally came up the stairs and stood behind Remus.

"Harry, man, you can't go and hide like tha—holy shit," Ron said as he got close enough.

Hermione didn't even comment about the curse. She simply gaped.

The witch never gaped.

Studied, yes.

Gaped, never.

This was gaping.

"What?" Harry finally had the courage to ask. He heard yet another set of steps and looked over to see Severus ascend the stares to join the rest of the motley search party, grumbling the whole time.

"Absolutely no regard for secrecy. Just might as well announce to Voldemort and all his followers every detail about ourselves. Get it all out in the open. Bloody idiotic little Gryffindor thinking only after the fact and—"

Severus also fell silent when he finally reached the area where everyone else was standing, his eyes locking with Harry's.

Harry watched as the older wizards jaw went slack and his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

Now he was really starting to get worried.

"What?" He finally said again, his eyes still locked with Severus. "What's happened? My hair hasn't turned fuchsia, has it?" He tried for a little humor to mask his nervousness.

No one laughed.

"It really didn't, did it?"

"No," Hermione said faintly, "No, your hair is still a normal color. A few more grey hairs….Oh, Harry."

A few more grey hairs didn't sound too bad; just make him look a little bit older was all. The way Hermione said that last part though, almost like a condolence, let Harry know that they weren't talking about his hair at all.

"Something's happened. What's changed?" he finally asked as his eyes darting back and forth between his three-person audience, willing at least one of them to end this. As it was, Harry was about to break through the roadblock that they created to get to a bleedin' mirror.

"Please, say something."

Remus took a deep breath before he spoke. "Harry, I do not want you to panic."

Oh, now he was going to panic.

"Remember, don't panic, but, well, it's—it's your eyes."

Harry swallowed down around the instant lump in his throat and looked directly at Severus once again.

"Bloodshot?" he croaked out the question.

The Potions Master just gave a slight shake of his head, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. The young wizard had never seen the man look like this before.

Maybe he should just go back and hide in the attic.

"No, Harry," Severus finally said. Now Harry didn't know which he didn't like worse, the look, or Severus's tone of voice. It was almost gently. "Your eyes are not bloodshot."

No.

'No. No. No. No.'

"They are not green anymore either."

'Well, shit.'

* * *

Several hours later, Harry was sitting on the couch in the sitting room with the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. Right after he had been told, Harry had pushed his way through the group to find a mirror. Any mirror. Any mirror. He went all over the house trying to find a mirror that told him differently. None did. Soon after, there was a flurry of activity as Remus and Severus tried to ascertain what effects on his magic the red area had induced. It was just now that he was finally able to get over the shock of what had happened and he was able to grieve.

Grieve the loss of his eye color.

His green eyes were now grey.

A very light grey.

It was almost as though they had lost all their pigment in one fail swoop.

Wait.

Scratch almost. They did.

He had grey eyes now.

Ron and Hermione had tried to bolster him up the entire time. They told him that it was okay. Hermione even checked his eyes and diagnosed that excluding his poor eyesight, his eyes were well and healthy. Ron kept telling him that it didn't matter. It had helped, but anytime he locked eyes with one of his friends, he couldn't deny that both of their faces fell just a bit. Saddened by the change. Harry pressed on his eyes harder, knowing it wouldn't help, but it made him feel better.

"I use to do something of that sort in my younger days. I enjoyed the little fireworks that would go off behind the eyelids. It always provided such entertainment during class when a professor got particularly boring."

Harry sighed as he heard Albus coming into the room. The dip in the couch let him know that the older man had sat down right beside him. The teen finally took his hands away from his eyes, opened them slowly, and then lolled his head to the side to into sparkling blue eyes. Albus gave a small sigh, but his face still had that twinkle and the soft expression.

"Remus and Severus have given me an update of your magical progress. Might I say that was quite a move to decide to try to tame your magical core, but I would expect no less."

Harry didn't really consider what he had done as "taming anything. He had just wanted the pain to go away. Putting the word taming in the mix made him thing of his magic as some wild beast and him needing a chair and a whip to keep it at bay. The thought almost made him smile. Almost.

"How do you feel?"

How should he answer that?

"I sneezed about half an hour ago and everyone's hair color stayed the same," Harry deadpanned.

"Ah, small victories," Dumbledore said as he unwrapped a small candy from his pocket. "Care for a sweet?"

Harry looked at the sweet, "Yea, sure. Why not."

The headmaster seemed genuinely surprised, but happily fished out another sweet to hand it to the teen. "Do you actually feel any changes, physically, mentally or magically, since your meditation?"

The younger wizard actually thought about this. Before now, he had only thought about how he was different physically now since he had lost….

Since his eyes…

Yea.

He had only thought about that.

Nothing else.

Now, he finally forced himself to think about other things. To actually take more of an inventory.

"I…I feel this constant—buzz I guess." Harry knew he wasn't describing this right, but he couldn't think of a better word. "Like I have too much caffeine in my system. Lights appear kinda brighter."

"Fascinating."

"Can I fight now?" he asked quietly as he sung further down on the couch.

Dumbledore sighed. "While I would like to tell you yes, I believe that we must take a full inventory of your magic and how it has been affected by your recent activities. Much like the last time, we have to know what we are up against. Plus, I daresay I am somewhat dying of curiosity myself." He finished with a small twinkle in his eyes. A joke.

Harry found himself offering a smile in return, even if he wasn't feeling all that up to it. It was just too hard to resist Albus when he was happy. He actually had a feeling that some of the reason he still had to wait had something to do with some strategy. Some part of these real life games of war.

It wasn't too long after that when Albus left Grimauld place. Harry had walked him to the foyer with the promise that he would wait until he had received the okay from Severus before he could return to battle and then promptly returned to the couch. He grabbed one of the throw pillows, brought it to his chest, and quickly buried his face in it. He didn't know how long he had stayed like that, lost in his own head, but he became aware of a presence in the room, a magic presence that he seemed to know.

"Hello Severus." He mumbled into the pillow. He didn't even hear a noise until he felt the man sit beside him on the couch; then again, Severus never made a noise when he walked.

"It seems you are also in procession of a more cognitive awareness of other's magical signatures."

"Can't it just be that I could smell you?"

"Do you want to lose your nose?"

"I'm already a bloody freak. Why not just add the icing on this proverbial cake."

"I did not know you possessed such a word in your vocabulary."

"What? Cake?"

"No, you lit—Oh for heaven's sake, take that damn pillow away this instant!"

Harry lethargically turned his head towards the person beside him, keeping his head resting on the pillow, and turned now light grey eyes towards Severus's dark ones. He felt a jab of pain race through him as Severus averted his eyes and the teen cursed himself as he felt tears welling up in his. It hadn't bothered him this much when Hermione or Ron did it. Nor Remus. Maybe this was just the last straw. Maybe Severus was just one person not looking him in the eyes too many and that's why it hurt the most.

Maybe.

"I want her eyes back," he said on a sob. Oh lord, he was crying.

The young wizard brought a hand up and began to rub the tears away almost violently, somehow still keeping his head on the pillow.

"It was the only thing of hers that I had. I…I just want them back. Everyone, from the time that I was small, told me how much my eyes reminded them of my mother. I…I just want her eyes back…that's all." It felt like he was dishonoring her by losing her eye color. The thought made his stomach roll and he buried his face in the cushion again. "I need them back." It sounded so broken.

There was a silence in the room, but the presence on the other end of the couch never left. Merely sat there quietly.

"Lily's eyes were darker."

Huh?

"Huh?"

"Your mother's eyes had some brown in them. Yours did not."

Harry tuned back to Severus, his eyes slightly red from crying and rubbing. "But—"

"While it is true that your eye color was very close in nature to that of Lily's and subsequently made individuals reconnect to her memory, the eye color you possessed previously was uniquely your own." The Potions Master might as well have been giving the weather report with the most matter-of-fact tone that he used. Harry could almost pretend that there was nothing wrong with Severus speaking like that. A voice that surprisingly brought him small touch comfort. "I must also say that while the loss of your eye color is—unexpected—it is certainly not a travesty."

Harry struggled to find something to say in response to that. "Then—then why is no one able to look me in the eye anymore? It's because of the green."

"No. It is because," Severus began; he shifted in his seat slightly, sitting up straighter, "since you found out, no one in the house can stand to see that look in your eyes. No matter what color they are."

Harry finally lifted his head from the pillow to fully look at Severus, finding himself staring right at him, meeting his eyes. The teen's eyes widened slightly at the intense look from the taller man.

Neither looked away.

Neither even blinked.

There are times when a perfectly rational person can forget the most basic of things.

At this point, if asked, Harry would draw a blank look about the topic of breathing.

Eventually, a noise from the back of the house brought both wizards back to their senses, the spell was broken. Harry blinked several times, his grey eyes screaming for moisture after staying open so long, and looked back at the throw pillow in his lap. He heard Severus clear his throat beside him.

"You may fight again."

Harry blinked slowly one last time as the quiet statement sunk in. "I beg your pardon?"

"You can and will return to active battle."

The teen opened his mouth, then closed it, then tried again. "Albus wanted me to wait. Said he wanted to wait till I got the okay from you."

"Did I not just give you the okay?"

"Well, yes, but—but I think he was wanted you to—like—test me or something. Like the last time."

"That is simply a matter of interpretation. If Albus has left the decision up to me, then it has been made. You may return to fighting."

Harry looked back at Severus. "Is this about my eyes? Why are you doing this? Before, you were all about proving that I could handle this power. Now that it is different again, all of a sudden it's okay?

The Potion Master sighed and stood from the old couch; Harry, for some reason, felt he should do the same, so he followed. Severus didn't move however, but just looked down at Harry.

"Have you noticed a change in your height of vision, Harry?"

The young wizard's brow knitted together in confusion. Height difference? But that would mean he was taller or shorter. He hoped to all that was good in the world that it wasn't shorter, and looking up at Severus didn't seem as far away as normal. That must mean—

"I grew!" he exclaimed as his eyes lit up. He was on the verge of a happy dance when Severus spoke next.

"No, you did not."

So much for the happy dance.

Ah, confusion is back again. It and Harry are old friends.

"Then what happened? I seem taller. I seriously doubt everything shrunk." Harry looked around the room just to make sure.

"Your feet are not touching the floor."

Three

Two

One

"Say what!?"

"Ever since you have come descended the staircase, your feet have remained constant four to five centimeters off any floor surface you are standing or walking on."

Harry's once knitted brows shot upward into his messy hairline. He looked down and, sure enough, there appeared to be an odd shadow under his feet, like light was able to get through.

He wasn't touching the ground.

He raised his head to meet dark eyes again, surprise still written all over the young face. Severus's face was its usually calm seriousness. "You may blame this all you want on your eyes, but that right there," he pointed down at Harry's feet, "is why I have given you the okay to fight again."

Harry thought he understood that…somewhat, so he nodded in agreement.

"Now," the taller wizard said as he straightened up and began to adjust the rolled up sleeves of his white dress shirt. "It is late. I am to assume that if I were to return to your own room, you would find little sleep this night?"

A shrug was all he got in reply. Harry was still too concerned with his feet.

"I thought not," the former professor gave a long sigh. "Follow me."

The older wizard turned on his heels and was off, making Harry nearly have to jog to catch up with him. It was a little harder since he was now hyper-aware of his feet and the fact that he was technically walking on air. Or his magic. Both very disconcerting thoughts.

"Shouldn't you be taking it easy?" the boy asked as they began to ascend the stairs.

The leader of this small trek simply snorted. "Yes. I am still such the cripple; that is why you are having trouble keeping up."

They made it to Severus's room, Harry still following with much thought as to why. He looked around the small, dim room, slightly lost. Severus rolled his eyes and pointed at the bed.

"Sleep. Now."

Harry's mouth dropped down slack. His eyes darting from the bed, to Severus's finger pointing to the bed, to Severus himself.

"You seem to be only able to sleep when you are in my bed. A most unfortunate of things, but as of the present moment, sleep should be the highest on your priorities and since you seem incapable of taking care of yourself, the decision has been reached. Bed. Now."

In a daze, Harry did what he was told. He looked down at the loose pair of jeans and quickly touched them with his pointer finger, transforming them into a pair of his plaid sleeping pants. Before he crawled under the blanket."

"Sleep," Severus ordered.

The teen's eyes snapped closed. Harry wondered what was going on that he was following all of this bizarre scenario without question. Maybe it was just because he was tired.

That was it.

He didn't sleep though, like ordered, until a short while later when the bed dipped down from an added person. Severus lying down on the other side. Gathering up all of his Gryffindor courage, Harry turned on the bed to face the Potion's Master, Slowly opening his eyes.

Severus gazed back at the familiar, yet now so unequivocally different eyes of the young wizard in front of him. He had not been lying when he had told Harry that his eye color was unique to him alone. It had been an intriguing eye color. So different. At first, when Severus had seen that Harry's eyes had changed, he had thought that his captivation with the young man's eyes would vanish. That the color had been the only thing that grasped and held his attention so. Now, looking into those same, now light grey eyes, he realized that the spark of life that the green eyes held was still present with this new eye color and Severus still found himself getting lost in those eyes.

"Sleep," he said again. It was still an order.

Honest.

Harry closed his light grey eyes for the second time.

* * *

Harry finally got his wish to return to combat when, about a week later, there were reports of a massive Death Eater attack on Ottery St. Catchpole. Just a little too close to the Burrow for everyone's tastes. The group living a Grimauld had apparated in to a hail of spell fire. Curses and Hexes flying this way and that.

It took Harry a moment to get his bearings back after being inactive for so long, but it was not long at all before all of the adrenaline and training and instincts came flooding back.

"Ron, Go check and see if you can locate the rest of your family! Hermione, go with him," he hollered over the commotion. He watched as the red head nodded and the two friends moved off on their own, already starting to cast spells of defense of their own.

Remus was already off. Harry knew that it was always his parent's friend's intention to be the one to catch Wormtail. This was just such a battle that the rat animagus was sure to be hiding somewhere. The werewolf was on the hunt.

"Luck!" Harry called out after him, a curse flying at him, but deflecting off to the ground.

Remus turned quickly. "Keep safe!"

And he was gone.

Severus stayed by his side, something Harry felt secretly relieved about. The older, ex-spy was appraising the situation in his usual calculating manor, casting shield charms whenever necessary, but keeping a cool head the whole time. He knew it was only a matter of time before his once supposed comrades realized the traitor was in their midst.

"Are you ready to prove that you can handle yourself out here?" He spoke out to his teenage comrade.

"Ready if you are!"

The spells began to fly.

Severus was back in his element. He could duel with the best of them. Better in fact. He had worn his black robes and he was, as far as he was concerned, the feared Potions Master once again. He could weave spell combinations that would boggle the average mind and was displaying his talent right now as he shot off a series of interconnected curses to one masked Death Eater that would, in the end, render the man incapacitated from confundus, but also unable to speak spells correctly. He knew he had been successful when he heard the other cast a spell that simply turned a tree blue. Not two spells later and that man was incapacitated and bound. He turned to locate his exact opposite on the battlefield.

Harry didn't even have to think spells anymore. It was hard to explain, but it was just as if he could just tell his magic what to do, and it would do it; all from just a wave or swipe of the hand. Even he knew that he was not that elegant anymore. Some of it, he reasoned, was not his fault. He was more like a tank and he was sure he would hear something about that later on. His magic provided a constant shield without him even thinking about it. A shield that, when he was able, he could extend over quite a large area to include Severus. It could not keep out some of the stronger spells, leaving Harry to duck and dodge every so often, but it did provide him with a fair amount of cover and allowed him to cast his stunning spells with more ease.

Also, he had been told by both Albus and Severus that he needed to keep his elemental manipulations a secret at this time, a strategy move that both older wizards felt would serve a greater purpose. Harry supposed that it would be best to keep that wild card under wraps for right now, but the move meant he was seriously limited as to what he could do. Many normal spells he performed too strongly, meaning that if he wanted to take the Death eaters alive, he couldn't throw things like cutting or stinging hexes. They wouldn't end pretty. So he mostly stuck with a simple stunning spell and plows his way through.

One by one, they Death Eaters that came up were knocked out and down. Some of the more powerful ones were able to dodge; some of the smarter ones ran away. Harry really wasn't concerned. He and Severus just moved through the city, trying to stop as many Death Eaters as possible.

Eventually, that number got less and less, and instead of encountering Death Eaters, they encountered the Weasley clan.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Ron asked as he jogged up to the teen and the Potions Master.

Harry hadn't even seen the headmaster there the entire time. "Here was here?"

Hermione nodded as she cast diagnosis charms over both Harry and Severus. "He was with Arthur and Molly when we found them. He had said that he was going to locate you."

He had never showed up.

Harry had the worst possible feeling.

Then, he felt two large magical bursts run through him like a freight train. A quick glance around let him know that he wasn't the only one that felt that.

They needed to find Albus.

Now.

The group made their way through the streets at a running pace, following the source of the magical bursts. Further and further outside the city they went until they were well outside of town. There were no other Death Eaters to encounter, which was either a good sign or an extremely bad sign.

Harry wasn't sure which.

They rounded up over a hill when they finally found Dumbledore of a short distance away and the cause of the magical bombardment.

He was battling Voldemort.

No.

Not anymore.

Harry stopped dead, as did the rest of the group. They watched in slow motion as Dumbledore look up to their direction slightly elevated on the hill. It was only for a split second, but Harry was sure everyone caught it as well. A very strange thought entered his mind. Albus was wearing his favorite, bright blue robes. They matched his eyes. He hadn't worn them in almost two years.

Oh.

Harry began to rush forward, his feet still not touching the ground beneath them, and now he was rising in elevation as he surged towards the two wizards. Distantly, he heard the footsteps of the rest of the group, or at least some of the others, following him. They weren't in time though.

A blindingly bright curse left Voldemort's wand and hit Dumbledore square in the chest; the silver bearded man almost putting up what seemed like no resistance to it at all. Voldemort let loose laughter that would chill even the coldest of hearts before he was gone in a swirl of flames and smoke. Harry could have sworn that he saw the maniac turn to smile at him as he apparated away, but he was more concerned about getting to his mentor and friend who was lying a few yards away where the curse had flung him.

He wasn't getting up.

* * *

Thank you so, so much for reading Chapter 13!!

* * *

1 – In regards to the Dinah comment. Where I grew up, the song, "Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah", is such a well-known song that there is a running gag that if you say, "__________ is in the kitchen." Chances are, someone is going to finish that statement "with Dinah." I couldn't resist the joke. If you don't know the song, try looking it up.

* * *

Teaser for Next Chapter:

I am tired of playing these games!

* * *

Reviews are loved!


	15. Our Own Sort of Win

**A/N: **No, you are not seeing things. After I was done with the last chapter, I was so itching to get to this chapter, I ended up starting on it. Bits and pieces have been playing through my mind from this chapter from the very beginning. I write linearly, so I never started anything on it, but I had thought about it so much that as soon as I started typing, I couldn't stop.

I just wanted to say, thank you to my reviewers. You guys are my die-hard readers who, even though you are not so impressed that it is now taking me longer to update, you still will leave me messages that encourage me. Also, thanks goes out to those who added this to the alerts and favorites list. This story is almost a fly by the seat of my pants kind of thing, but I have been getting so much love for it, it is unreal.

Again, this chapter is un-Betaed. I apologize. I also feel bad for the great **Invader Shawn, **to whom I keep adding more and more work.

* * *

Chapter 14: Our Own Sort of Win

* * *

_Yes, and mermaids have lovely singing voices. - Severus Snape_

Madame Poppy Pomfrey let out a long, weary sigh as she folded a towel and began to pack up her Healing supplies. She would stay a little while longer to monitor the situation, but she really needed to get back to Hogwarts. Now, more than ever.

She had gotten the news right along with Minerva. While the deputy headmistress had to stay behind for the sake of the school, the school's Healer had rushed to Grimauld place to join the once potions professor and her apprentice. Poppy turned away from her kit when she heard a dark grumble coming from behind her.

Severus was still by Dumbledore's side, still casting diagnostic spells. Random. Obscure.

The elderly Healer knew that nothing would probably come of those spells, but they seemed to be more for the caster than the person being cast on.

She turned her head now to look at the headmaster who lay motionless in the bed. He looked so much older now.

Her friend.

Severus gave another grumble.

Poppy was sure it was a swear, but pretended that she had not heard a thing.

Honestly? It was what she was thinking herself at the moment, anyway.

They had already been here for so long, yet nothing they did seemed to have any effect. It was one of the downfalls of Healing. It wasn't a fix all. Some things were going to be beyond ones grasp. It was a hard lesson for Miss Granger to learn. The young witch had just recently left, obviously shaken by the fact that all of her studies, all the knowledge, and there was still no change.

This time, Severus did swear and made no qualms to try to hide it.

'Then again,' the elderly woman thought as she looked at the younger wizard standing a few yards away. His brow creased in agitation and concentration, 'perhaps it is a good thing she learned the lesson now. Some people are still struggling with it.'

She turned back to finish cleaning up, only to be startled seconds later when Severus gave a loud, frustrated growl, slammed a potion bottle down, dearly breaking it, and stormed out of the room.

Poppy turned back to Albus, still lying unmoved. She gave another sigh.

"You had better be alright, mister. That is all I have to say."

* * *

The sun was just setting through the windows at Grimauld Place. The sitting room's only light was from the waning sun, giving the room a very soft glow. Ron was sitting slumped in one of the small sitting chairs in the corner of the room with one of his large hands covering his face. It seemed to be the only spot he wanted to be with all the complete and utter chaos going on around him. He was still in his battle dirty clothes and he knew that he probably smelled this side of ripe, but he couldn't bring himself to care and certainly wasn't going to brave the stares right now. Hell, he wasn't even brave enough to face the kitchen right now. Not with his mom cooking six five course meals at the same time. She had also gone into her most basic mother-hen mode and the last time he had tried to go in there to get a glass of water, he had all but ran from the place with his mom calling after him with a high pitched "Ronnie-wonnie! Come back here!"

So here he sat in the corner of a darkening room in a chair that was getting more uncomfortable by the minute and he still thought he was in the best place possible.

"Here you are," came a quiet and very familiar female voice.

Ron removed his hand from his eyes, still covering his mouth, and let his sight adjust to the diminishing light. After a few seconds his eyes finally refocused to see Hermione standing in the entryway. He just knew by looking at her that she was raggedly tired. Her hair was frizzier than usual, a quirk that he had found out from Hogwarts years meant that she was under an extreme amount of stress. The more the stress, the frizzier the hair. A flash of a memory from their NEWTs zoomed through his mind. Hermione's hair was nearly an afro by the end of that.

Her hair wasn't nearly that bad right now, which brought Ron a small amount of comfort. She also had her arms wrapped around her, like she was trying to give herself a hug. The jeans she had worn that day were now ripped and ruined. Those were her favorite jeans too. He finally let his hand drop down to his side.

"Hi," he replied simply.

"Hi."

She looked like she was about to drop.

Ron opened his arms out. "C'mere."

Usually, Hermione would roll her eyes, her independence shining through despite any situation, but right now, at that moment, she crossed the room quickly and practically fell into sitting on Ron's lap, the redhead's long arms circling around her, rubbing small circles on her back.

"How are you doing?" Ron finally asked after a few moments of focusing on just the witch in his arms. He heard Hermione give a small huff and couldn't help but smile just a little.

"I am perfectly fine."

"You sound like you are about to fall asleep."

"We just did a lot of extensive medical magic, Ronald, I think that exhaustion would be a logical outcome."

Ron tightened his arms around his girlfriend, knowing what question he should ask next. "How is he?"

Hermione let out a very long, very weary sigh. "I don't know Ron. Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape did all that they could. Every potion. Every spell. There was just no change at all. He is alive, but only just. Madame Pomfrey doesn't know what to do. He is probably going to have to be moved to St. Mungo's for a specialist, but Madame Pomfrey," Hermione's voice cracked and Ron's arms tightened instinctually around her, "she said that she doesn't know what curse he was hit with and she doesn't thing anyone else will know either. She thinks he is going to die Ronald!"

"Did she really say that?"

"No, but it was clear on her face, plus the implication that no other medical professional would know what to do would mean that…"

She couldn't continue as she buried her face in the tall teen's chest and finally began to cry, something she had been fighting since they had first come back to Grimauld Place.

Ron began to shush and coo and try his hardest to stop the tears that were falling from those brown eyes. "It will be okay. He is a strong wizard. Everything will be fine."

He wasn't sure is what he was saying was to convince Hermione, himself, or them both, but they seemed to be the only words he could say, so he said them over and over again. He quickly wiped the few stray tears that slid down his own cheeks.

Finally, Hermione calmed a bit, her sobs settling down to hiccups and she finally brought her head up from where it was hidden in Ron's chest. "Sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout," her mumbled as he pushed a curl behind her ear. The redhead tried to give her a small smile of comfort, but didn't know how well he succeeded. Hermione returned the gesture, but it lacked any sort of believability. Almost like a white lie. Ron figured his own smile probably looked about the same.

Hermione looked around the room. "Where is your mother?"

"Cooking."

"How long has she been there?" Hermione asked as she wiped her eyes.

"How long have we been here?"

"Six hours."

"That long."

The young witch winced. "Has she cooked a lot?"

"Oh, we could feed half of London."

"She is just worried."

"Yea, but we are going to have to banish most of it, just seems like a waste."

Hermione looked at Ron in mild confusion. "You haven't been eating?"

"M'not that hungry."

"Oh." Hermione's arms curled around the youngest Weasley son's waist. "I understand."

"Remus's gone," Ron said as he ran his fingers through curly, frizzy brown hair.

"Where to?"

"He went with Tonks somewhere. Dunno where."

If Ron were to guess, though, they were doing something very similar to what they were doing right now. The fact that Hermione only nodded meant that she probably thought the same thing, too. The young woman reached into her pocket to get her wand, casting a spell that lit about half the lights in the room. Keeping the room in low light, but also keeping them from going to darkness.

"Harry around?"

It was Ron's turn to sigh.

"No. He came down the stairs quite a while ago and just walked by, saying he was going out and dissaperated."

Hermione looked up at her boyfriend incredulously. "You just let him go? Alone? What if something happened to him?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Ron had to stop Hermione before she got too worked up. "First of all, I bet Harry can handle himself wherever he goes. I know before his magic was unstable, but…well, I mean, c'mon, Hermione, the guy hasn't walked on the floor for a week now! Plus, he didn't look like he was going to take no for an answer."

Hermione pursed her lips. "But still, I know that he must be hurting. He looked so upset as we were moving Dumbledore. He even punched a wall! He shouldn't be alone."

"I think that's exactly what he wants right now."

The two lapsed into silence. Hermione was fighting sleep, unaided by the fact that Ron kept tracing patterns on the back of her neck with the pads of his fingers, relaxing her. She wasn't about to tell him to stop, though.

Eventually, the quiet was broken when they heard a noise, the sound of someone walking briskly down the hallway. A few seconds later, Snape walked past the door way and paused, looking in at the two in the corner. His eyebrow quirked in obvious disdain over the position he found the two teenagers in, but he did not comment—a fact that made Ron infinitely grateful.

"Where is Harry?" he asked tightly.

"Dunno. He left." Ron had thought that as soon as he said that he was going to be yelled at. He tensed and braced himself for the inevitable tirade in words that half the time he did not understand.

He watched, though, as Severus simply nodded, then walked out of sight and apparated away.

"Somehow," the red head said as he kept his eyes at the space where the Potions Master once stood, "I don't think that Harry is going to be alone anymore."

* * *

Harry lay amongst the tall grass and weeds of the training field, His arms laying limply on the ground beside his head, and stared up at the stars that were slowly appearing as the light disappeared over the horizon. His eyes crossed for a moment as a small beetle flew very close to his face in his line of vision.

It was actually a very pleasant, spring night at the training field, but Harry really hadn't noticed. When he had apparated here, he had started pacing almost immediately, trying to get his mind to calm down. When walking didn't work, he tried running. He lost count of the number of laps he had done around the field at twenty-two. Finally, Harry just gave up and fell to the ground. Not out of exhaustion though, but just giving in to his thoughts, not trying to escape them any longer. That seemed like hours ago.

He missed the pop of apparition, his mind a million kilometers away. What did garner his attention was the unmistakable presence and pressure of Severus's magic, alerting him of the older wizard's arrival. Short of cutting his eyes to the general location of Severus's presence, Harry made no move whatsoever. He didn't want to be found, and hoped that the tall grass was just tall enough to do the job of hiding him. If not, he hoped it was dark enough that if he stayed perfectly still, he would look like a log or something the like.

The teen cursed his luck when a dark figure stood over him, facial features all but blacked out from the shadows.

"Is there a reasonable explanation as to why you are out here?" the dark figure asked.

Harry just shrugged, an action that was a lot harder to do lying on the ground. "Felt like the place to go….How is he?"

The younger wizard actually heard the Potion Master sigh. "The same as he was when you left."

That got a nod out of the younger man. "He is going to die, isn't he?"

"You do not know for certain. The fact that he is not dead yet does lend its logic to the opposite of your assessment," Severus said as he continued to loom over the reclining teen.

"I could have stopped it."

"Yes, and Mermaids have a lovely singing voice."

"I tapped into my magical core for damn-sakes," here, he knew the swear had garnered a raise of a dark, elegant eyebrow. "I should have been able to stop that. Right?"

Another sigh. Two sighs. This was getting serious. "While you have accessed a vast amount of previously locked away power, you are still very green to it. Before, you were able to do simply, albeit powerful things that taxed the very magic right out of you. You have just now started to control it instead of it controlling you. Do not think that it will happen overnight."

"That sounds like utter crap."

"You have developed quite a mouth."

Harry just shrugged again. "So I will continue to train. What good will that do?"

"Besides actually ridding the wizarding world or the Dark Lord, I have not the foggiest."

"I mean, Mr. Sarcastic, will it be enough?"

There was a pause where the only sound was the wind swishing through the trees and tall grass.

"Who knows."

"Wonderful."

"But we must still try."

Harry couldn't help but give his best glare, despite the fact that he was certain now that Severus probably couldn't see his face. "When did you become an optimist?"

"When you decided to start punching holes through walls. You do realize that in order to be taken seriously as both a leader and an adult, you should avoid such childish acts."

"What are you going to do? Ground me?"

"Oh, for the love of—will you stop acting like a petulant child!" Severus threw up his arms and stomped off a few feet, out of Harry's line of sight, and continued his tirade, "It is understandable that you are upset. We all are, but moping and punching walls and playing the 'What if' game is not how one should deal with this."

"Then what do I do?" Harry all but yelled into the dark, starry sky.

In a few split seconds, Harry heard the rush of robed through the grass, then, nearly jumped out of his skin when Severus's face appeared only a little over a dozen centimeters in front of his own face. The teen's eyes widened almost comically and he held his breath. Severus face was serious and determined. An odd glint was also present there that Harry could not quite place. The young wizard wondered for a brief second how the older man was able to stoop down so low. The thought fleeted out of his mind, however, when the man in front of him began to speak. It was rather hard to avoid. It was almost a shout.

"Figure out what you have to do and do it!" the Potion Master said fiercely. "Fight and move forward. Keep fighting any and all of life's battles until we figure out our own sort of win."

Harry swallowed, trying to get his eyes to focus on the darker ones in front of him, he was so close now that the dying light couldn't even prevent him from seeing the man's direct stare and set features.

Harry swallowed. "You have said something like that before."

He watched has Severus rolled his eyes. "Have I? You would think it would have sunk into that incredibly thick scull of yours by now, but I guess that was just too much to hope for."

Harry did jump—and let out a very embarrassing yelp—when, after saying that, Severus nearly slammed something into Harry's stomach and stood up, swirling his robes around as he retreated back into the darkness.

The grey-eyed teen took a moment to calm his racing heart from the jolt, and then brought his hand down to feel what Severus had oh-so-gently placed in his procession.

It felt like the boxing gloves bag.

Finally, Harry raised his head to actually look at his stomach and identify that it was indeed the small pouch that they kept the shrunken gloves in. He craned his neck to look at the taller man standing a short distance off. In the dimness of dusk, he could just make out that the man was removing his robes.

"You want to fight?" he asked the obvious.

"Since you seem to have the inclination to punch walls and this activity has been our own means of handling stressful situations, I thought that a little boxing would be in order in this particular occurrence."

"You aren't worried I will, I dunno, hurt you? With my new powers?" Harry started to sit up, his back protesting after hours of lying on the ground.

He heard a snort. "Do not overestimate your own abilities."

"I did put a hole in a wall," Harry said as he opened the bag to find only one set of the gloves. Knowing that Severus must have had the other pair already, Harry wasted no time in taking the red boxing mitts out, resizing them, and sitting them over his hands.

"Care to shed some light on our arena?"

Harry looked up from his task and over at the Potions Master who was now in practical darkness.

Light might be good.

The grey and ebony haired teen focused his magic easily, thinking about lighting the area around him. Slowly, a small ball of light began to grow out in front of him, getting to be roughly the size of a quaffle. It cast several meters around in a soft flow of light.

"Cool," Harry said softly as he stared at the glowing orb. He knew he was probably hurting his eyes, but he couldn't seem to care. "I didn't know I could do that."

"You claim to have been able to do something and yet you are still unaware of the extent of your powers," Severus's voice called out to him, bringing him back to reality.

He looked over to the source of the voice, his vision spotty from staring at the light, to see Severus standing there with his shirtsleeves already rolled up, gloves on, and his arms crossed.

"You expect instant gratification. Life does not work like that," Severus continued in annoyance.

'Tell me about it.' The thought popped into Harry's mind unbidden and, at the moment, Harry really didn't have a clue what his subconscious was really referring to. Especially while staring at Severus.

"Ready to begin?"

Harry nodded and put his gloved hand up towards the glowing sphere, giving it a magical push up and over. It finally came to a stop right in the middle above the two wizards.

Harry stepped up a few steps closer to Severus.

The taller wizard took his stance. "We shall try to also think of this as a training exercise."

It was Harry's turn to arch a brow at the comment as he too went into the ready position. "How so?"

"Look at your feet."

Following the instructions, Harry saw that he was a good couple of centimeters off the ground.

"Do you think that you can go around muggle London like that? Do not even answer that, I know you have not even thought about it in the first place. I want you to try and concentrate and see if you cannot get your feet to finally reconnect with this Earth."

Harry actually didn't think that would be too bad, and considering he wanted to go out into the muggle world again, he needed to figure out the whole feet then anyway.

He began to concentrate, but before he could get very far, he realized that Severus was starting to swing at him. He dodged just in time. Then went to take a swing of his own.

"Still continue to work on your feet. If you think there will not be distractions, then you are sorely mistaken."

Harry grinded down hard on his teeth, but didn't say anything. Only tried to focus harder. Eventually, the swings and punches, dodges and ducks, began to do as they had always done, clear his mind of all the mess that seemed to clutter there. If only for a moment, he could just simply exist. After a while, he even forgot about the fact that he was suppose to be worrying about his feet.

Severus blocked a rather solid hit and moved around to take an upper cut of his own, which was blocked. They had been at this for only a few minutes and he could already tell that his young opponent was starting to zone out, work on auto-pilot, as it were.

The older wizard had been looking down at their feet from time to time throughout the bout and in the beginning, Harry had at least made an attempt to place his feet on the ground. Sometimes his heels or toes would actually make contact with _tera firma_, but now, it was as if he was not even trying anymore.

The boy was powerful, but there was still a lot of work to do.

Severus was secretly happy, however small amount of happiness there was to be measured, that the same was not true for Harry's hands. While there was definitely a medical pressure surrounding them, it was not like it was going to blow him back like a metaphysical bumper car.

'I did not just make a reference to a bumper car of all things.'

Severus was snapped out of his thoughts by a swing from Harry's left and finally decided to allow himself to get lost in this odd, primitive dance of punches and footwork. Allowing his mind to wander or to only focus on the simple movements.

Harry was also letting his mind wander, but instead of his quiet adversary, Harry started to voice talking as he brought both of his arms up to block a blow.

"Do you think he did it on purpose?"

It took a moment for Severus to process what was being said, his own thoughts interfering, but once he did, he needed no more information to know what was being asked.

"Dumbledore is a complicated man," he replied, sidestepping the question as he sidestepped out of the line of Harry's thrown right jab.

Harry huffed. "That's your way of saying yes."

"I do not presume to know the inner monologues of someone like Albus Dumbledore. Honestly," Severus added as he brought around a series of alternating punches, a few of them landing in Harry's sides. "I would assume that doing such a task, especially with Dumbledore would result in irrepressible insanity."

"I think he did it on purpose."

"Oh, you do."

"He's done things like that before."

Severus could not deny that logic. Dumbledore was all about cryptic messages and actions that were designed for some grander objective that only the wizened wizard was privy to.

"That is true," he finally conceded.

"Why?"

"Again, you want answers that are not easily found if at all. A waste of time."

Harry stayed silent after that, the two continuing to exchange blows and punches. It wasn't until Harry made contact with Severus's stomach, knocking the older wizard back a few steps, that he started to speak again. His breathing was starting to become labored, whether from the physical activity or from the fact that his thoughts were starting to agitate him, even Harry wasn't sure.

"It's all about a damn game."

"Watch that mouth. And what are you on about now?" Severus all but demanded as he came back to begin the fight again."

"All this move and countermove. Chess, poker, games!"

Ah, now the boy was making sense. "That is how war is performed."

"Yes, but it makes people toys."

Severus agreed, but didn't get to voice anything, the younger man continuing on his tangent.

"Pawns, wind-up toys, puppets on strings. Toys! I have been told what to do my whole life. You were right!" Harry tried to keep his anger in check, but he knew that if he didn't back off, he would lose control. "All I do is keep on doing what everyone says in the "betterment of the game." I think I know what all this is, but I don't know any of this! I overanalyze everything now. And you! You have had to deal with both sides. Not only are you a part of the chess game for the light, but you had to go back and forth and play the puppet for Voldemort. Everything just seems like one big game after another."

Harry stopped moving. Realizing the ultimate truth of that statement and what it meant to him. His breathing now was definitely choppy, coming out in bursts and pants; now, undeniably from emotions more that exertion.

All he saw now was games.

Chess moves here.

Poker moves there.

Games.

He looked at Severus, who had also stopped his movements because of Harry, his own breathing also fast and hard. Intense, dark eyes staring at him.

Another game.

Tag

Your it.

Harry felt a growing sense of…something indescribably…welling up in his chest.

"I am tired of playing all these games!"

His feet rushed forward very quickly, literally not touching the ground. His mind had once again gone on auto pilot, so overtaken with the moment, that he did not even know what he was about to do until he collided with Severus.

The Potions Master's eyes widened minutely in surprise as the teen made the bold statement and then rushed forward fast and unexpectedly. He braced, thinking he was going to receive a hit, but instead, he was all but tackled by the smaller young man, forcing him to the ground. The next thing he was aware of, after a brief, stunned moment when the wind was knocked from his lungs, was that there was a most definite, warm mouth covering his own.

Harry had about as much experiencing kissing as Ron did with portion control; he really had no experience when it came to kissing another man. But as he felt Severus's lips under his, he found he couldn't care in the slightest one way or the other. This felt like something he had wanted to do for ages and only finally just realized it.

Maybe that wasn't it.

Maybe it was that he was just now allowing himself to realize it.

Severus stiffened under him considerable, obviously in shock over their current situation. Harry was sure that at any moment he was going to be shoved off. Or worse, hit.

He was therefore somewhat startled—he may have even jumped a little—when he felt a tongue against his lips.

Severus was an idiot.

At least in his own mind he thought so.

This could not continue.

This had to stop.

There were so many things wrong with what was going on right at that moment.

In fact, Severus was pretty sure that there was a Special Hell for this kind of thing.

But as an obviously inexperienced, but infinitely exuberant mouth moved over his own, Severus felt his brain short circuiting. Thinking about those plump lips that he had to keep himself from staring at and the thin body that was pressed against his own, the older wizard wondered if this Special Hell would be so bad.

He began to kiss back. He felt a smug sense of satisfaction when, after pressing his tongue to the teen's mouth, the boy let out a gasp, giving him access to Harry's mouth.

That was when the two wizard's brains and bodies completely gave in to instinct.

They continued to kiss until Harry tried to move his hand, desperate to touch Severus in some way, only to be inhibited by something around his hands. For a brief moment, his fogged mind couldn't supply any information, but finally, what seemed like a distant memory came through.

They had been boxing.

Harry made the split decision to break the kiss, sitting up still astride his once professor. He was breathing heavy for a completely different reason altogether now.

He made quick work of his own gloves, almost frantic in his impatience to get them off his hands. Tossed aside with little care where they landed, Harry then went for Severus's gloves. The older wizard oddly silent.

That is, until Harry had tossed the last glove out into the dark surrounding their little circle of light. That was when the taller, dark eyed wizard sat up, wrapped his arms around Harry, and began to kiss him once again.

'So much better,' Harry thought. He jumped as he felt warm hands move underneath his baggy t-shirt.

His own hands found there war into Severus's hair, not really caring that it felt a tad oily. He ran his fingers through it anyway as he experimentally gave the older wizards lower lip a tug with his teeth and then sucked.

That had a very definite reaction.

Severus growled.

Or groaned.

Groan-growl. Definitely a groan-growl.

And somehow, through a feet of strength that Harry would have thought impossible coming from the recovering wizard only a few months ago, Severus ended up on top and Harry found himself unceremoniously trapped beneath him on the ground.

Not that Harry was complaining.

Nope.

There was a tongue in his mouth.

Can't really complain with your mouth full.

Of course, he wouldn't be complaining even if he could speak freely.

Severus's hands returned underneath the baggy, now very dirty shirt the younger wizard was wearing. His hands rising higher. Eliciting a half laugh, half moan from the teen, who might have mumbled something about 'very ticklish' or something of the like, but Severus was too focused on warm skin, plump shiny lips, and sparkling grey eyes behind blush colored cheeks.

The kissing and petting continued on. Severus's hands continued to caress Harry's skin until the little jolts the teen received from being tickled diminished. Well, the jolts were still there. Harry just was starting to associate them with something else entirely.

Finally, Harry decided that Severus looked a little too well cut for what they were doing, so he brought his hands down from where they had been clutching the older man's shoulders to start the un-tuck the white dress shirt the man was wearing.

Reality hit Severus as soon as the cooling night air hit his stomach. He had not even realized that the young wizard beneath him had un-tucked his shirt. Now, slightly cool, smaller hands were attempting the same movements his were. This needed to stop.

Before it went too far.

Too fast.

Severus froze.

With a great heave of self restraint, he removed his mouth from Harry's, finally allowing the two of them to breathe properly. He looked down and had to fight back any sort of groan. The teen was flushed, lips wet, hair a complete disaster, and the look of slight confusion on his face.

Oh, yes. This had better stop now alright.

Severus mentally cursed himself as he finally pulled away from the warm body. He could not remember a time when he had let his hormones run away like some randy teenager. Even when he was a teenager. When he finally got to his feet, he dusted himself off, hoping that his body would calm down from all the recent activity. Walking around in a state of arousal was most assuredly an unpleasant experience.

The Potions Master looked back to where they had once laid, expecting to see Harry getting up as well.

The teen was just lying there. Still panting. Still looking confused. Now, though, Severus could tell even in the yellowish light that there was an unmistakable edge of hurt in the young man's features as well.

The older wizard brought his hands up and rubbed his face. It wasn't like he knew what to do about this. 'This' shouldn't have happened in the first place. Severus was old enough to be Harry's father. Hell, he had fought with his father in school. The boy was a former student. Not only that but—

Severus sighed as he brought his hands away from his face. There were a hundred reasons why they should not have done what they did. A hundred reasons why they should never do it again.

Severus was a very reasonable man.

He walked over to the teen on the ground, extending his hand in aid.

Harry was at first confused when Severus pulled away. He was even more confused when the man got up. Had he done something wrong? It had felt so good. Like releasing some sort of floodway that Harry hadn't even known had been trapped. Then, his mind started to supply reasons, as minds usually do when left to silence.

Severus didn't really want this.

Severus still saw him as a child.

Or worse, Severus still really saw him as his father.

Then, a hand appeared in front of him. He stared at it for a moment before he turned to see Severus staring down at him. His face unreadable.

Harry reluctantly took the hand and was pulled up to his feet, swaying a little bit from the head rush.

Then, his hand was cold again as Severus walked off to put the gloves away and his robes back on.

Harry stood there, in the middle of the lit area of the field, wishing he had something to do with himself. Wishing he knew what was going on. The silence was eating at him; it felt like his skin was too tight. Finally, as Severus was fastening the last of his buttons, Harry couldn't take it anymore.

"What is going on?"

He knew it was an unintelligent question. Too broad. But that is the only words his mouth seemed to be able to say.

Severus didn't reply. He just continued to finish buttoning up his clothes. Harry was about to ask again, but when he was done with the last button, Severus finally spoke.

"I do not know."

Harry stared up into the night sky, trying to find his answers there. "Are we just going to ignore it?" he asked as he continued to look upward. "Because I—"

"It is getting late."

Harry brought his head down to look over at Severus. He was standing in the apparation spot. His face still a mask. The teen pursed his lips together tightly.

So that was how it was going to be.

Fine.

Wonderful.

The grey eyed teen gave a curt nod. Looked up at the glowing orb that had faithfully lit this whole fiasco. A push of magic later, and the two were in total darkness, save a small, blue glow from the waxing moon. Harry walked over to stand beside Severus. He wasn't even going to say a word.

It would all just end up being another game.

Hide and never find again with ones memory.

Stupid game really.

Never works.

The two apparated back to Grimauld Place in silence. They walked up the stairs in silence.

The only time the silence was broken was when Harry went to shut himself up in his room.

They had placed Dumbledore in there.

"Shit."

"Watch your mouth," came the quiet reply from behind him. Harry turned to see Severus standing in his doorway. "Get in here."

The teen was not going to read any kind of meaning into this. Severus had offered his bed before. Just…not after they had done…well…

Harry walked in quietly and the two went about their business of getting ready for bed. Not a word was spoken between either; both lost in thought. It could almost be imagined that nothing had happened, things were so routine.

Almost.

That is, it was routine until Harry lay down in the bed beside Severus. He closed his eyes and was just about ready to roll over, away from the other man, when he felt a soft brush against his lips. A soft, chaste kiss. Harry opened his eyes wide to make certain that it was indeed Severus Snape next to him.

The kiss broke. Harry still stared wide eyed as Severus went back to laying on his side of the bed. Looking at Harry with intent eyes.

"Sleep. We shall discuss this in the morning," said taller, dark wizard.

Harry wanted to protest. They could talk about this now. They needed to talk about this now!

But his body betrayed him.

And he fell asleep.

* * *

Thank you for Reading Chapter 14!!!

* * *

Teasers for next chapter:

Can we do that again?

My eyes!

I can do this!

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Reviews are loved!! I always like to hear what the readers think!


	16. Velveteen Rabbits

**A/N: **Hello to all! Thank you so much for all of your reviews and alerts. It was so nice during some really hectic couple of weeks to see an e-mail from people who likes the story. I know that this has been another long bout between chapters, but I am in the process of setting up a better schedule for myself so that I can write more. Even if I have to lose sleep to do it. Meh, I'll sleep when I'm dead, right? By means of apologizing, I offer a southern tradition for the New Year—Hoppin' John! No, it isn't a dance, it is a meal that one eats on the first day of the New Year. It has black-eyed peas for luck, rice for prosperity, spinach for money, and cornbread cause it's good. People offer cookies online all the time. Therefore, I offer Hoppin' John to make amends.

--I love, love, **love** the fact that people are starting to guess who said the lines for the teasers at the end of the chapters. Some people even got it right! This could be a great game! Keep it up!

--My beta, the illustrious **Invader Shawn **is still on hiatus. I miss her. She helps my stories so and is the best beta a crummy writer could ever ask for!

--Also—Partay! I have over 300 reviews! I never, ever thought I would see that many reviews on any of my stories. Thank you to everyone, anytime ever that reviewed my stories and also to the wonderful **Hedwig **who gave the 300th review. This chapter is for you!

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Chapter 15: Velveteen Rabbits

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_An absolute chore. – Severus Snape_

The slight, rolling effect of consciousness finally taking hold after a night's sleep can be one of the more confusing times of day. The subconscious is only slightly starting to shut down and once again, fade to the background, but the actual world around is starting to bear down on all of the senses. Obviously, this is more than a little disconcerting.

Severus was experiencing such a state of disorientation as the sunlight of dawn filtered through the crack of the heavy window coverings and cast it's warmth and light across his closed eyes, chasing away the last, fuzzy images of the dream he had been having. Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to ascertain why he had the particular feeling that something was not right. He began to take an inventory of himself and his surroundings—or as best as he could when he was still half asleep and still not half sure that he was still dreaming. That was when he discovered the source of his confusion. Present on his chest and stomach was a very substantial weight. Not the same as that of the heavy quilt that had once graced the bed during the colder, winter months. No, this was heavier, but not to the point of crushing him.

Curiosity finally won out over the desire to stay asleep and finally, Severus opened his eyes, instantly bombarded by aggravatingly bright sunlight, his head must have turned towards the window during the night. He winced and turned his neck quickly, blinking the spots away from his vision.

When his eyes were finally able to focus properly, the dark-eyed man looked down at his chest, trying to ascertain the source of the weight.

Source found.

Rather obviously in fact.

Laying directly on top of him was a still sleeping Harry Potter.

The teen was laying face down on his stomach; head turned to the side and tilted a little up, practically nuzzled into Severus's chest. He legs had curled up and under himself and now rested on either side of the older man's hip. The quilts and sheets were strewn off the bed in a manner that suggested that during the night the two had fought for the coverings in their sleep and, in the end, their latent thoughts had decided to just keep each other warm instead.

Harry shifted slightly, face scrunching up as he fought to stay asleep, burring his head even more into Severus's chest.

The events from last night announced themselves to Severus's awareness in a, "Hi, how are you? We are here and we are not going away," sort of fashion. Dumbledore's falling. Confronting Harry. Boxing with Harry.

Severus groaned as the next thought hit him.

Making out with Harry.

'No,' Severus thought stubbornly. 'I am thirty-nine years old. I. Do. Not. Make Out.'

But what in the hell do you call what they did?

Severus groaned again and tried to bring his hand up to rub his face, but found that he could not. His arms were impaired by Harry's. The little nuisance had all but trapped him with his body.

Severus started to think grudgingly that the young wizard had done it to him on purpose, as some way to aggravate or spite him. Those feelings, though, disappeared when Harry twitched his nose, gave a small, half-asleep hiccup, and brought his pink tongue out to wet his lips in those first stages of waking up. Severus watched this display and a swirl of so many scenarios flashed through his mind at the display.

Of waking Harry, up just so he could kiss those now slightly damp lips.

Of going even farther than that. Hearing that squeak like the one he had heard out on the training field that one day and possibly so many more.

Of waking up like this every single day.

Shit.

Severus clamped his eyes shut as he tried to process these images. He could feel the back of his jaw hurting, and, realizing he was grinding his teeth, immediately tried to loosen his bite.

This could not happen, could it?

What was he thinking?

Moment of weakness.

That was it.

Though Severus prided himself on being an overly intelligent human, he was still just that—human.

There was only so much temptation that a person could take and Severus was ready to admit that somehow, through some weird, utterly phenomenal twist of fate, Harry James Potter had become that temptation.

He just needed to get up. Possibly after getting some coffee and actually be able to think clearly, he would be able to rationally explain his actions last night and be able to give an argument as to why it should not happen and—

And Severus stopped those thoughts cold.

His eyes screwed shut even tighter as his teeth went back to grinding.

He had shifted slightly in an attempt to begin to work his way out of the bed and out from under Harry, when he made a wonderfully terrible discovery.

Harry was hard.

He was not the only one, either.

'No. No. No. No. No.'

Severus began to breathe deeply, trying desperately to will his own erection to go away.

He was able to rationalize Harry's current condition. One could hardly be responsible for their bodily functions when asleep. Furthermore, the boy was young and still in the throes of puberty; Severus himself remembered such a time in his own life.

Many.

Years.

Ago.

'I am an old fart!'

This was ridiculous. He was a middle-aged, Slytherin ex-Death Eater who was entertaining notions of nefarious intentions towards the Gryffindor Golden Boy. It was obvious that Harry was under some sort of stress-induced delirium that caused him to—

"Stop that."

The quiet, slightly croaky command in the tenor voice made Severus tense, muscles going rigid as his eyes remained shut.

"You know, just because you can't see me, doesn't make you invisible."

The older wizard let out a sigh of irritation and opened his eyes, the sarcastic comeback to Harry's statement at the tip of tongue.

Severus did not say it, though, when his dark eyes connected with the light grey, still hazy from sleep gaze of the young wizard still laying on top of him and, by the looks of things, making no attempt to change that fact either.

The two stayed that way for a time, just taking in the situation. Harry had a slight stain of red to his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose, himself also becoming aware of both his and Severus's physical arousal, but despite this, he wasn't going to move. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

"I know what you're thinking," he finally said after a little while.

The older man below him cut his eyes, scoffing. "You could not possibly know."

"But I do," Harry insisted. "You were thinking that this can't work. That we're too different."

"Because we are indeed too different."

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you."

Severus finally looked back at him.

"You are too young. This is simply a passing, little boy crush."

Harry bristled at the comment, but did not raise his hackles. He was determined. "I am not a little boy, and this is more than just a crush I think." Steeling all of his Gryffindor bravery, Harry brought his hands, still a little heavy and clumsy from sleep, and propped himself up with one hand as the other rested on Severus's arm. Slowly, he brought his hand up the slightly muscular, somewhat yellowish-pale arm. Up over the shoulder, then up the neck; all the while, his eyes staying locked with the ex professor, who had not even dared to breath during this time. Finally, Harry made it to the top of the neck and—not really having any clue what to do next—brought his fingertip over to the man's ear. He traced lightly over the shell and was pleasantly surprised to feel the body underneath his give an answering shudder. "Yes, I like you," Harry whispered. His hand stopped its movements, but stayed at Severus's ear. "But I have a pretty good feeling that you like me as well. What's wrong with that?"

"There is a highly good chance that I am losing my mind."

Harry sighed, his brow knitting together in agitation. This was going to go nowhere. Severus had convinced himself of something and now it was going to be a battle of the stubborn.

"Severus, do you want to kiss me?"

The man's dark eyes immediately darted down to Harry's mouth.

He'll take that as a yes.

"Because I want you to. After all these years of getting to know you and finally—_finally_—becoming your friend, I should feel guilty that I want that friendship gone, but I don't. Not really. I want you to kiss me so bad. I want you to do that thing with your tongue like you did last night." Harry's own eyes moved down the Severus's thin, strong lips. "That felt so, so good. And I want to feel your hands on me again, touching everywhere, and—"

"Shit."

The teen jumped a little as the mouth he had been staring at opened to utter the quiet curse. He was even more surprised a second later, when Severus forced himself up into a sitting position, effectively pushing Harry up and sitting in the older man's lap, wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, and then proceeded to give Harry exactly what he had wanted. Their lips crashed together hard, and instantly, Severus's tongue was out and seeking entrance. Harry's hands, in an effort to both keep his balance and get as close as possible, wound themselves around Severus's shoulders, his right hand making its way into the man's sleep mussed hair.

The kiss continued on and on, only briefly pausing so that one or the other could take in a quick breath before diving in again.

Severus's hands were all over Harry's back, but finally, they slid down to Harry's pajama clad rear and gave a mighty squeeze. He was rewarded with a muffled squeak from the younger man in his lap.

Finally, the two pulled away longer than only a few moments. The two stayed close, both breathing heavily into the others mouth.

"I do not want to be just a notch in your belt." Severus said. It was his final argument. He refused to just be a fling for an experimenting teenager or simply the boy's sexual training ground. He would train the teen to fight. He wouldn't just be his trainer in this.

Harry stared at the man. Then, he closed his eyes and brought his hand that was in Severus's hair back and pressed the heal of his palm into his left eye, rubbing slightly.

"Is that all you really think of me, Severus? That you'll just be some—some notch in my belt?"

Even though Harry could not see him, Severus averted his eyes anyway. "I remember what teenagers were like. I was young myself."

"Severus," the plea forced the older man to look back. The teen's eyes were still closed, but a second later, the eye that was not covered by the hand cracked open. Staring at him. The hand came down and the other grey eye opened to join its twin. There was a silence, but only for a minute or two, before Harry gave a small, sad little laugh.

"Hell Severus, I don't even own a belt," the younger man said as his eyes cast down and away. Severus noticed a faint stain of red on Harry's cheeks.

Severus had a pretty good idea on what that metaphorical statement meant.

And it made him feel even worse than it did before.

He shut his eyes tight. "You are a virgin?"

He waited for the answer, but did not hear any.

That always spoke volumes.

"Why did you not say anything before?"

"I didn't want to make a big deal about it," came the quiet reply.

"Did not want to—" Severus opened his eyes and almost glared at Harry. "How is that something that you should not make a big deal of?"

Harry simply shrugged and brought his hand up to card through his messy hair, making it stick up even worse. "Because it isn't."

"You are—"

"I'm not some weepy bird or bloke who romanticizes about their first time. All soft music and rose petals. It's just something that's there, alright?"

"I am not the person you want to experiment with for your first time."

"Well, that's a relief," Severus looked and saw a hint of amusement in those grey eyes, "because I wasn't planning on doing any experimenting the first time. Maybe, like the fifth or sixth. There was this one thing the guys back at Hogwarts were talking about, but I don't know how adventurous you are or how flexible I am so that little bit of experimenting might have to wait till, like, the sixtieth time or something. Definitely not the first though." Harry finished with a chuckle and a smile.

Severus blinked a few times, processing the little speech. "You are serious about this?"

"Yes!" Harry said emphatically. "Unequivocally yes. Please, please, please understand that."

"This could not be real, you understand that, right? Simply something brought on by the war. By confused hormones and—"

Harry got up off Severus's lap very carefully, hyper aware that he did not want to hurt the older man. Severus's excuses stopped at the loss of Harry's weight and both men felt the cold loss of the others warmth. Harry stood beside the bed and brought his arms up, hugging himself. His eyes looking at a small fuzz ball on the sheets beside Severus's hip.

The quiet wrapped around them both like a cold, wet blanket, until Harry finally took a deep breath and began to speak, slowly infusing warmth back into both of their bodies.

"Did I ever tell you that my first real toys that weren't broken were books?" Harry asked as he continued to stare at the fuzz. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Severus shake his head. "Dudley never liked books. I don't think he ever learned to read that well. Anyways, for his fifth birthday, one of his Aunts gave him a whole stack of these classical children's books. You should have heard Dudley wail. My aunt eventually put them in my cupboard so that they would be out of Dudley's sight. She didn't want me to touch them, but I did anyway."

Severus sat quietly as he watched the young man with his arms drawn around him like a shield. He did not know where this story was going, or its intention, but he found himself unable to speak or ask questions. Something in Harry's voice at that moment left him mute.

"I started primary that year, so I couldn't read that well yet, but I tried so hard and pretty quickly was able to read all of the books that my aunt had thrown into my cupboard to collect dust right along with me. My favorite one—and I think it's still my favorite story—was the Velveteen Rabbit," Harry's grey eyes finally looked up from the little fuzz to Severus's dark eyes, "Did you ever read that story?"

Severus remembered the title, but could not remember the story, he shook his head, but finally found his voice enough to crack out, "It has been many years ago."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"It's about a toy rabbit that, more than anything, wants to become real. He is just so, so desperate to be real in the world. He finds out through the story that the only way for a toy to become real is to be loved, and he finds this boy and this boy loved him so much and kept him despite how tattered and torn he became. Finally, at the end of the story, because of the love he received from the boy, the rabbit was able to become real rabbit. I loved that story. I loved how it spoke of finding someone who loved you when you least expected it and the strength and magic that can come from that. I wanted to be that velveteen rabbit so badly when I was a small kid. To find someone to love me. Make me real. Set me free."

His mouth suddenly very dry, Severus tried to swallow through the lump in his throat. He was not even sure, if asked, if he could blink without some sort of instruction.

"We have said in the past that we have felt like pawns—toys—in this war. Well, I think that you could be what makes me become real," Harry ploughed on. It was as though a damn had burst. Or perhaps it was that the boy was afraid that if he did not get all of this out now, then he never would. "And—and I want to be the one that makes you real. If you let me. We could become real together."

When Harry finished, he looked at Severus, eyes open. Everything open. Hoping that the man would see.

Severus blinked very slowly as he continues to look at Harry. He looked so young, yet so old to the world at the same time, so completely vulnerable right now, with beseeching eyes and a small smile of hope at his lips, that Severus wondered if the young man even knew just how bared he was.

Damn.

Severus could not argue any more. Not with those words. Not with that face.

Not anymore.

"We will," his voice left him for a moment. He cleared his throat and tried once more. "We will take this slow."

It took Harry a full minute to actually process what Severus had said. He had expected more argument, maybe even flat-out rejection. When the older man's words finally did sink in, Harry's arms dropped, his face slack with surprise. Then the full implications of the statement took hold of his consciousness. Slow?

"Wait—but—"

"We will go slow," Severus repeated firmly as he sat up straighter. Harry knew he was trying to be authoritative, but it seemed a little silly in his pajamas and messed up hair. It made Harry want to smile. "I will not overwhelm you."

"What if I want to be overwhelmed?" Harry supplied hopefully.

Severus simply rolled his eyes.

"Fine," Harry said as he brought his hands up on his hips. The movement caused the older man's eyes to avert down to that part of the teens anatomy. The pajama bottoms he wore were riding down dangerously low, showing a delicious view of hipbone and a light dusting of hair that started at the navel and traveled down. He forced himself to look back up, reminding himself of his own restriction. There was also the fact that the teen had started speaking again.

"How slow are we talking? Walking? Crawling? Banana slug?"

Severus felt a brow arch, almost automatically. "Banana slug?"

"Hey, I am just trying to see what you mean by slow. Like, can we kiss?" Harry had to ask.

Oh, they could kiss.

The older man reached out with long fingers and snagged the younger man's wrist, pulling him forward and back into bed. He had meant to only give him a quick kiss, if only just to shut him up, but as soon as his lips met that full pout, his mind blanked out.

Harry fell into him, once again taking up residence in his lap. This time, both hands went into Severus's long hair, turning into fists but never pulling or tugging. Their tongues met each other and danced around and with the other. Harry knew that their breath was not the best, stale from the night of sleep, but he could be arsed to care. Severus's hands were back on his arse and—oh—his tongue just did that amazing little thing that made him see stars. The one where he liked the roof of his mouth. Yea, Harry pretty much decided that Severus could do that all day and he would be just perfect with that.

Severus's hands moved away from Harry's pert behind to move on to another area, the showing hipbone that had captured his attention earlier. He ran pads of his fingers over the indention where the teen's legs met his torso, swallowing the small grown and shiver emitted by the man in his lap. An image of taking off the blasted pajama pants and seeing just how bad he could make Harry shake came to Severus's mind.

Perhaps it was time to step back a bit.

With great force, Severus brought his head back. He opened his eyes to see Harry doing the same, blinking several times to clear his vision and his mind. Finally, the younger man gave out a small, happy sigh and leaned his head into Severus's shoulder.

"If that is taking it slow, I would hate to see fast," he said with a small chuckle. He cocked his head up just a little so that one grey eye could look up at Severus. "Can we do that again?"

Shaking his head, Severus let out a huff of what he had intended to be irritation.

It came out more as affection.

"It is late in the day. We must get ready and begin our training once more. Up you get."

Harry closed his eye and turned his head back into Severus's shoulder. "Fime" he said muffled.

Lethargically, the teen moved off the older man, off the bed, and moved around the room to gather his things for a shower. As he was about to leave to go to the bath, he turned towards Severus, arms full of toiletries. His eyes looked imploringly, but also had a stern edge to them too, a look that Severus had seen when the teen became stiff necked about a topic, stubborn.

"You aren't going to go and get all regretful and go into a little panic attack again, are you?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Again? I am quite sure I have no idea what you are referring to. Kindly quite wasting time and get ready."

"It would take less time if we showered together." Harry waggled his eyebrows in an over exaggerated fashion, a big smile on his face. He didn't know what he would do if Severus actually said yes. Right now, he was just too happy and it was fun to egg the older man on like this.

"Will you just go?"

"Going!" Harry said quickly as he peddled backwards a few steps to lean over for a quick peck on Severus's lips. Much to the Potions Master's shame, he returned the kiss automatically.

As he watched the young man leave the room, Severus shook his head and closed his eyes, tucking his chin to his chest.

"Little nuisance is going to turn me into a brainless fool," he muttered without heat.

* * *

Taking things slowly lasted about a week.

Actually, Harry was surprised that they had lasted that long.

Their training sessions had taken on a completely new level of tension, often times ending their matches not because they are physically or magically drained, but because they were mentally drained from trying to keep from one another. Even their conversations were like they were before, still interesting and engaging, talking about anything and everything, had developed an edge. Harry would be laughing pr listening to something Severus was saying and then get the overwhelming urge to touch, to lean in and kiss.

Something.

Anything.

Sometimes, the urge was so overpowering, it caused the teen to blush and duck his head.

He wondered if Severus was having similar problems. Judging by the way the man stared at his mouth whenever he spoke, Harry had a hunch that Severus was in the same boat.

Severus had asked to begin the process of turning part of Grimmauld's basement into a makeshift potions lab, which took up most of his time outside of training. At first, Harry had been somewhat angry about the fact that Severus seemed to avoid him, but then he started to notice a pattern. After every training session they had, Severus would disappear for a few hours in his dungeon. Harry wondered just what exactly the Potions Master was doing down there. He never asked though. Severus always said he was working on a cure for Dumbledore, and Harry would simply smile and nod, only halfway believing him at times.

Harry still slept in Severus's room. That was about the only time that physical contact happened. Severus would usually lean over and give a quick peck on Harry's lips and before things could progress any further from that, the older man would be in bed, covers pulled up to his chin and turned the other direction. The grey eye teen had laughed about it one night.

"So, just whose virtue are you trying to save here? Mine or your own?"

In the morning, they would wake up in some new, lovely mess of entwined limbs and shared breathes. That was when it was the most difficult. Harry would also argue that was when it was the hardest also, but that was a pun worthy of Ron, so he quickly pushed that one aside.

Harry grudgingly knew, in the end, that Severus was right and that taking things at a more deliberate pace would be better. This was new to both of them and, no matter how hard it was, rushing physicality could just create choppy waters instead of smooth sailing. So, the younger man restrained himself, taking comfort, however small, in the fact that the other man was having difficulties with it as well.

That when the next Death Eater attack had happened.

It had been small, only a few number of the Dark Lord's minions to deal with, but it was a chance for Harry to push himself and his powers.

The teen had tried to really get a good gust of wind going, and while he had managed to get it up to a speed that sent a good number of the hooded creeps up into the air, his split focus seemed to make his shield weaker. With his back turned, another Death Eater had sent a cutting hex towards him; Harry noticed it just in time to dodge, but the hex still grazed his cheek, causing a gash on the right side of his face.

When he tried it again after that, Harry made sure that his attention stayed also on his surroundings, not only on his magic. It was difficult at times and he realized now why he needed more practice at this. He almost had to not think about his magic in battle in order to use it the most effectively.

After the battle, when the group was back and while all the wounds were being healed, Harry sat on the couch with a rag to his face; he had insisted that everyone else be healed before him. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw a black figure pass by the entryway, followed by a pop of disaparation. Lowering the rag, Harry followed who he knew was Severus into the foyer and apparated on the antique rug, concentrating on the spot he knew the older man could be.

The training field.

He was right.

Standing just a few feet away was the former Potions professor. Drawn up as tall as he could be with his back to Harry.

"You were careless today."

Harry instinctively touched his tender cheek. "It's only a scratch," he said with a small amount of defensiveness.

"And what will it be next time? Hmm? A large scratch? A full body bind? The Imperious curse? If you are unable to use your powers and also protect yourself—"

"Hey! I did it didn't I?"

"Yes," Severus said icily as he finally turned, staring Harry down, "At the second try. You were damned lucky that these were the lot of apparent Death Eater rejects or otherwise there would not have been a second time, probably."

"You know, I don't know if you know this or not, but this is hard!"

"Oh, cry then. This is war."

"Exactly! It's war! People are going to get hurt and I would rather it be me than someone else."

"You are not meant to be the martyr, Gryffindor," Severus spat.

"No, but I'm going to protect my friends and the people I care about."

"You shouldn't be fighting yet," Severus said as he advanced towards Harry a few steps. It was in an threatening manner, deliberate and angry steps, but Harry didn't even flinch away. Grey eyes steeled into the older man's dark irises. "You are not ready to fight. If you have any sense at all you would know that."

The younger man took a deep breath, his hand coming up to run through his grey and ebony locks. He tilted his head down slightly, staring at the other man's hands, balled into fists. "Severus, are you saying this because you really don't think I can fight yet, or because you're worried I'm gonna get hurt?"

Severus looked at Harry for Severus moments. When he had seen Harry hit by that hex, it felt as though something within him had snapped. He had seen the teen with wounds before. Bloodied and bruised as he was now, but now it seemed like he himself should have done something to prevent that. To prevent Harry from coming to harm. Like it was now his responsibility due to the shift in their dynamic.

He had been angry, not only at Harry for not being careful, for causing this new feeling of worry to spring unbidden from within his chest, but also he was angry at himself. For feeling this way and for not doing his job.

He stared as the teen continued to look down and away, eyes seeing far off, even though they were quite close. Finally, those grey eyes looked back up at him imploringly, searching for answers. The only answer Severus could think of at the time had no words to accompany them. The older man realized that, despite his love for them, sometimes words simply got in the way.

He advanced the last few steps, this time, he had apparently taken the teen by surprise, as those grey eyes widened slightly and he took a step back. Severus was not deterred, though, and he quickly took Harry's face in both hands, avoiding the sore cheek, and brought their faces together, lips seeking the others.

"You were reckless," he said in between kisses.

"I know. It's going to happen again. Probably worse next time."

"You make my job very difficult."

Another kiss.

"Am I a job?" Harry asked with a small smile, eyes soft and hooded. His face only centimeters away from Severus's.

"An absolute chore."

Their mouths came together again, this time a slower burn behind their movements instead of the burst of flame that took place before. Severus's hands moved up from Harry's jaw line to behind the teen's ears, up and into the silky, two-toned hair. He felt a strong pressure around his midsection, pressing into his lower back and knew it was the young man's arms and hands. The older man moved his mouth away from Harry's, keeping his lips in constant contact with the warm skin as he began to kiss all over the shorter wizard's face. He knew that he was probably causing Harry some pain, kissing the cut etched across his cheek, but it he felt compelled and, by the sigh that escaped passed Harry's kiss swollen lips, he didn't object. He pulled away to bring his wand up, healing the cheek, before his lips returned to the now pink, newly healed skin, tender to the touch. When he was satisfied that the area had received enough attention, he moved his lips back to cover Harry's mouth that yielded to his.

"What about taking things slow?" Harry asked as they broke apart for air, his eyes looked up at Severus as he licked his lips.

"Oh, shut up," Severus said as he leaned in once more.

Yes, sir.

When so connected in an intimate manner, a wondrous phenomenon occurs. Hearts sink up as well as thoughts, leading to movements being in glorious and intent sync with one another. As Severus and Harry continued to kiss, they seemed to come to an unsaid understanding that standing up was completely unnecessary. Moving as on and keeping their mouths locked together, they eventually ended up on the ground, Harry's back against a tree and Severus pressing up against him, pinning him there. Severus just hoped that he was able to remember to clean the dirt stains from his knees and Harry's elbows.

The older wizard snaked his hands underneath the younger's shirt, moving up over strong, compact muscles to the teen's chest, running fingers over the nipple, causing it to pebble as he swallowed Harry's surprised squeak and groan.

"You make the most delectable sounds," Severus said darkly as he pressed even harder on the tiny nub.

"Uh-ha!"

"Mmmmm," Severus hummed as he leaned back in, realizing that his mouth had been away from Harry's for an unacceptable amount of time. He continued to massage the young man's chest, reveling in the noises and squirms he was producing from Harry; as if he was a fine instrument. A handcrafted violin. Played right, and it could create a symphony.

Harry's mind was clouding over fast. Severus's mouth was warm and strong, as was his hands. He had no idea his chest was so sensitive, but now he was more than happy for the discovery. His own hands had stayed fairly stationary in Severus's hair, enjoying the feeling of the long strands between his fingers, but finally, he cleared his mind enough to realize that turnabout would be more than fair play in this situation. He brought his hands down to Severus's robes, trying to work open the buttons, to only encounter more buttons. The teen let out a huff through his nose as Severus moved down to start kissing his neck.

"They make a thing called zippers, you know," he said breathlessly as he saw stars from Severus sucking rather hard on a spot behind Harry's ear that felt just a shy hair close to heaven as far as the young man was concerned.

"Brat." Severus bit where he had been sucking.

"Uh-huh!"

Harry continued on his mission to undo the buttons on Severus's clothing, focusing on the zips of pleasure shooting through him from Severus's hands and mouth. In the distance, he could have sworn he heard a noise, like a popping or something, but he couldn't be bothered to place just what that sound meant.

"My eyes!"

Harry's head jerked back at the sound of Ron's voice, stopping only because of the solid tree behind him. Severus's hands had stilled their movements, but did not move, his mouth coming away as Harry's head went back.

"Sorry! I—sorry! Hermione told me to come and find you and I really should have known better. But I'm so gonna go now and you can just—well—yea—whatever. Good, yes. I'm just gonna go. Uhhh—yea."

Harry closed his eyes and tried not to laugh as Ron dissaperated away. He really hoped that his friend didn't splice himself. Well, they had been saying that he should be with Severus.

He opened his grey eyes to see Severus staring at him, his features obviously belying his upset over this. He began to pull away.

Oh, no no no no.

"Wait," Harry said as he brought his hands away from Severus's shirt and to the older man's face, drawing him back, thankful that the man was not continuing to move away. "They know."

"They know? When did—"

"Well, they don't know. They know now, obviously, but they…kinda guessed. Before all of this happened. They have been trying to get me to you about it for a while now."

Severus closed his eyes and let out a sigh, leaning his forehead to rest on Harry's. "This should not be broadcast to the world."

"They won't tell. Who would believe them?"

The Potions Master had to huff out a laugh at that. "True."

Harry moved his fingers along the angular jaw, feeling the slight scratchiness from afternoon stubble prickling his fingers. "You're okay? With them knowing?"

"Considering Ms. Granger's reputation, if they did not know, they would know soon enough. Is Mr. Weasley going to act a fool over this?"

"Oh, I think we may have just scared him for life."

"Hm, that could be an added bonus."

Harry let out a happy and relieved laugh. Severus was okay with his friends knowing. He wasn't going to back off, at least, not because of this. Harry counted that as a victory. In a life like his, any victory was worth celebrating.

The interruption seemed to break the connection that had enthralled the two for so long. Severus was still holding him to the tree, but his face was clear, contemplative. "I should not have let things progress this far. It was inappropriate"

"I happen to think it was very appropriate," Harry replied.

We should be taking things—"

"Slow. Yes. I know," Harry said with a sigh as he leaned his head back against the tree. The back of his head was tender from where he hit it when Ron had surprised them. "This is going to make me go crazy."

Severus leaned in to kiss him once more. It was chaste, more a reassurance than anything else.

"I would not be remised if we were to just see where things led."

Harry's ears perked at the sound of that.

"No forcing the other away?"

"No, not unless you annoy me."

"What if we don't go slow?"

Severus brought a hand up to tuck a lock of grey hair behind Harry's ear.

"We shall just have to set out own pace, then."

* * *

He knew it was something he had to do, but he didn't want to do it. Training had been going well, but he seemed to have hit a type of plateau. He could control what he had fairly well, he even was able to stay on the ground most of the time, only rising up if he was tired or if he was concentrating on more powerful magic. However, he could just feel that there was more there. More that he could handle, but something was blocking it.

Severus had told him the solution.

So had Hermione.

That didn't mean that he liked it any better.

"You can do this!" Ron said determinedly, trying to help work up his friend's nerve.

"I can do this!" Harry repeated.

He could meditate again. Go to the red area. Rut around in his magical core once more.

Then again…

"I can't do this."

"Yes, you can Harry," Hermione said as she led him to the sitting room. His two friends had made a sort of pallet in the corner for him."

"I don't even want to think what is going to come out grey if I meditate again!"

"Nothing bad is going to happen." Ron patted him on the back.

"That's easy for you to say. I'm the one that's going to end up monochromatic if I keep this up!"

Hermione turned to look at him. Stopping him in his tracks. "Harry, we can't force you to do this."

"Really?" Harry felt some hope blossom in his chest.

"Alright, so we can. Ron, tickle him."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Harry said quickly as he moved away from his taller, redheaded friend. "Let's not play too dirty now."

"You have to do this Harry. I know that it means taking some risk, but this is our chance to get Voldemort. To win this war."

Harry looked away, tugging on his old, faded t-shirt. "I know."

"So you'll do this?"

Grey eyes looked at the young witch. "Of course."

Hermione gave a small smile and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I knew you would."

"Yea, yea, but when I come out of this and my skin is grey, I am holding you personally responsible."

"Deal."

"You may look pretty cool all grey, mate."

"Thanks Ron," Harry deadpanned.

"Ohhh, or maybe your tongue will be grey!"

Hermione decided that now was the time to leave before her boyfriend made things worse. "We will be in the kitchen. No one should disturb you." Hermione said as she dragged the young Weasley off and out the doorway. "Good luck!"

"Thanks."

He had a feeling he just may need it.

Harry sighed as he sat down on the pile of pillows and blankets. He sat cross-legged as he did every time, taking one last look around the room, squashing down any nerves he had about going in and tinkering with his magic once again. He suddenly found himself wishing that Severus were there with him, even though he knew the man was downstairs in his provisional lab, concocting a slew of potions to try and help the still unconscious Albus lying upstairs.

He could do this.

Grey or not.

Harry took a deep breath, finding his own calm, and closed his eyes, shutting out the world around him and opening up the world within.

* * *

Thank you, thank you, oh, so verily for reading Chapter 15!

* * *

Teasers for next Chapter:

Anything else grey?

Did I ever tell you that I can cook?

Move! Move! Move!

* * *

Reviews are always loved!!


	17. Red Mysteries and Cherry Jelly

**A/N: **Hello all! I trust everyone is doing well! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reviewed and put an alert on this story. I didn't get a chance to reply to the last reviews (I have been so busy that during my free time I have been writing nonstop) So I will be replying to both those reviews and the ones for this chapter as well. It's only right. You people take the time to review. I should take the time to respond! I know I am a broken record on this, but I have to give props where props are so needed. Besides, after over a year of the same kinds of author's notes, I am worried that if I stray, that some kind of cosmic rip in the space-time continuum would occur. And who wants that?

I hope to add more to this chapter soon. Don't be surprised if it's a little longer later on.

You may be wondering why this chapter came so fast? This is for one of my lovely and loyal reviewers, **Paon**, who requested a birthday gift of an update. Happy birthday!

Un-betaed, but you guys are just so understanding, that you put up with me. I raise my Red Bull to you!

* * *

Chapter 16: Red Mysteries and Cherry Jelly

* * *

_Harry, don't listen to your idiot of a best friend. Just focus on your breathing. – Hermione Granger._

There was an instant where Harry forgot.

Forgot why he didn't want to be there in the first place.

The beginning stages of his meditation were so soothing, so peaceful, that he could almost imagine that he had done this on his own volition, not that he was goaded into it for a purpose. Floating and swimming along the blue space and white place brought a relief to Harry's mind that he had not known he was needing. He would watch as the swirls danced in front of his eyes and the colors formed into substances of air, water and ground; he could breathe it, drink it, and walk on it all at the same time. Leaving behind completely the little pallet on the floor. Leaving behind everything.

And he forgot.

Blissful

It was when the first, faint swirl of pink began to infuse into the white that Harry began to remember again. He knew he couldn't fight it, that it was going to happen, inevitable on all accounts. Last time, he had tried to resist it at first, making it almost unbearable, but it was only by accepting whatever was going on, whatever he was in, did it get any better. So Harry quietly stayed in the white place and watched as the pink swirls grew, feeling the electric sparks begin to crackle along his skin, under his skin.

When the red area finally broke through, it was just as painful as always. Shots of energy going up his spine and out to every nerve ending. Harry concentrated his breathing as best as he could, trying to be aware of his body and not get too lost in this sea of fire and spark.

Of course, now that he was here, he didn't have a clue in his head as to what to do.

Maybe that should have been something he worked out beforehand.

Whoops.

A part of his mind began to criticize him for not thinking things out in a more timely fashion. It sounded a lot like Severus.

Well, that could just go away now.

Harry's indecision was solved when his body began to shake violently and his stomach lurched, turning upside down even while he was still sitting on the floor. Something needed to be done about the electric pain soon, or he would probably end up losing his lunch, breakfast and probably last lights dinner as well. A fire spread up to his head and down through his core and the teen had to amend his thoughts. If he didn't do something about this now, he felt like he could get sick enough to throw-up his toes.

Not a pretty mental image.

Despite not knowing quite what he was going to do after—and also sending up a little prayer for all that was good, colorful and not grey—Harry began to relax his body, just as he had done before, and tried to accept the energy, pain and all, that was overtaking him at an alarming rate.

But try as he might to accept it, to accept his magic, the red area fought him even more. It seemed more difficult, to take much longer for his body and mind to come to terms with the tempest of fire that swirled around him. As soon as the pain would subside, a new wave crashed in from all sides, as if daring him to accept any more. Challenge him to overcome this thing that was bigger than him, yet a part of him in every glorious, terrifying way.

In all of his effort, Harry became aware of a slight pressure to the back of his head, his neck and his shoulders. He knew he should try to work out what exactly that meant, but his focus never wavered from trying to sort out this red area. The wizard's mantra became that of reminders to breathe and to keep reality and his goal in check, because it seemed so easy to just admit defeat and let this red area claim victory.

To lose it all.

Finally, his mind began to push out. Not in a fight, he was finished with fighting.

No, it was more like a command.

Magic may be bigger than anything, a part of everything, but it was still a part of him in a smaller, personal way and if he learned one thing in all of his time in the wizarding world, it was that all it can come down to is a choice. To take control of what you do. That included his magic.

Now he knew what he needed to do. Forget accepting. Forget even taming.

He needed to control it.

With that end now in mind, Harry began to push out more, not trying to ram up against it, but encompass it, and gradually the pain ebbed away. The currents still went through at what should have been an alarming rate, but the afflictions that went with them were retreating away, leaving a residual ache. Harry tried to move around in the dancing, leaping, kinetic and potential energy that made up this garnet colored sanctuary.

Electricity.

So different from the blue space or white place, that it shouldn't even be grouped with the other two. Getting a better look, it might have felt like fire, but the more he saw the more Harry was reminded not only of flames, but also of flying through thunderstorms on his broom, swimming deep in the lake during the Triwizard tournament and sliding down the pipes to the Chamber in his second year.

This seemed familiar now.

Something he could wrap his mind around.

'I think I've finally gotten the hang of—'

Smack!

Harry's eyes snapped open immediately at the feeling of the slap to the front of his forehead. All of a sudden, he was back in Grimmauld Place, on the floor, in his worn out jeans and baggy shirt. The first thing he notices was that he was looking up at the ceiling. That wasn't right. He had been sitting down. Had he, sometime during his meditation, laid down? It seemed so with his back now against the blanket on the hardwood floor.

Hermione was above him; hand up in obvious aftermath of the slap, a slightly guilty look upon her face.

"I'm sorry, Harry. You weren't responding. We called and called, but you wouldn't move and the storm just kept getting worse."

"Storm?" Harry croaked out. He was surprised how he sounded, like he hadn't used his voice in ages.

"There was a storm, mate. Pretty bad thunderstorm's brewing outside," Ron said to Harry's left, but he couldn't see the redhead from Hermione's flyaway hair. "We finally came in to get you when the thunder was shaking the whole house."

"Oh," was all Harry could think to say. He was still trying to pinpoint just what else was different. It seemed that he should know. That it was right in front of him.

"You're lucky Mr. Snape has been down in the basement, otherwise, he would have been very upset. You know you were supposed to pull back before that kind of display of magic," Hermione said as she brought her hand down.

Harry hadn't told Severus about this meditation session. Perhaps he should have.

Because it was at that moment, looking at his two closest friends, that Harry realized what was wrong.

"Guys, I—It's—you're red."

He knew he really hadn't explained what was truly bothering him, however, he was still trying to understand it himself. He could see Ron, see Hermione, just as they always were, only that they were red.

Red Skin.

Red eyes.

Red cloths.

Hermione's hair now seemed closer to Ron's that the light brown she normally had.

Everything was red.

Ron blinked a few times, his brow knitting together in confusion. "Red? Say what?"

A large thunderclap rang out with a flash of lightning, the windows rattling. Hermione and Ron both looked up and at the walls around them. Harry stayed lying on the ground, trying to work out why his eyes were playing nasty tricks on him once again.

"Harry," Hermione said as she looked back down. "What's going on? Your magic usually calms after you wake up from meditation."

"I'm seeing red."

"You mean, like you're angry?" Ron asked as he sat back on his heels, taking himself out of Harry's eyesight. "What do you have to be angry about? You and Snape get into a—"

"No Ron. I mean I'm literally seeing red." Harry's breathing began to speed up as he worried that he had really screwed up this time. "Guys, I think I'm still in the red area…"

The grey-eyed teen was aware that Hermione started talking, but he couldn't seem to focus on what was actually being said. A moment later, it seemed that she wasn't even addressing him, as he was all of a sudden being hoisted up into a sitting position once again by a very red Ron. Harry's eyes darted around the room. It wasn't just his friends; everything had a deep red to it, a current of energy flowing in and out of everything.

"Harry, look at me," Hermione said softly, but commandingly.

Harry slowly brought his eyes back to her brown, concerned eyes. Well, they were brown. Right now, they were a deep burgundy color.

"You have got to calm yourself. Okay?"

"Try hitting him again. Maybe he's broken."

"Ron!"

Smack!

"Ow-w! Not me! Him!"

"Harry, don't listen to your idiot of a best friend. Just focus on your breathing."

Another powerful blast of thunder.

Harry took a deep, stuttering breath as he tried to calm himself, keeping his eyes on his friends.

Using the same, back peddling process he used when he was meditating, Harry nearly went cross-eyed when the red of everything went to a pink, then a washed out white, before fading to blue. Hermione and Ron waited anxiously, but relaxed some when the storm began to break, eventually just a rain pattering against the old panes of glass. Harry finally closed his eyes when the blue eased into the normal colors. The floor was brown. Hermione's shirt was blue, and Ron's hair was the only bright red thing in the room.

"Harry? You still with us there, mate?"

Harry opened his eyes.

"What was that?" Ron asked as he reached up to scratch the side of his head, probably from where Hermione had smacked him.

"I—I'm not too sure."

"What did it look like?" Hermione was ever the practical one, trying to find the answer as quickly as possible.

"Like my Technicolor was off." Harry rubbed his eyes.

"Teckni-what-now?"

"Never mind, Ron," Harry said with a sigh. Placing his hands on the floor, he pushed himself up standing on legs that wobbled a bit at the knees. The two others following him, still eyeing him warily.

"You're saying you were still in your magical core? Even when you were awake?" Hermione was taking as many mental notes as she could. Already going over the catalogue of the books she knew of that could answer this mystery.

Harry nodded. Then he shook his head. "I have no idea." He moved over to the couch, plopping down and resting his head in one of his hands, propped up on his knee. He still felt a little shell-shocked. Had that really happened? Was he really in his magical core outside of meditation. What in the world did that mean? That was it. He was swearing off meditation forever. Nothing good came from it!

"I think that we will have to do some more experiments with this," the young witch said as she occupied one of the chairs.

Harry just nodded once more, but didn't add anything to the conversation.

"This is all good and important, but we are missing one key thing here."

The black and grey haired wizard turned his attention to Ron, who was still standing a few meters away from the couch.

"What?"

"Anything else grey?"

Harry had to blink a few times. "What?"

"Grey. Did you go grey anywhere else?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up into his untamed locks. "You can't see anything?"

"Nope." The youngest Weasley son finally moved and sat beside his friend on the couch. Just a little bit farther away than normal, as if still a bit nervous that Harry was going to explode or something.

Harry didn't blame him.

He was still a bit worried he might explode, too.

"Well, that's a relief," he said with a sigh, leaning farther into the cushions. "I don't think I could handle anything else."

"Don't count yourself lucky yet. Something that we can't see could have gone grey. Something important to every man," Ron said cryptically as he pulled at some fuzz on his shirt.

Something that we can't see…something…

'Wait a minute.'

"Wait a minute—"

"It's worth a check."

"Ronald, what are you talking about?" Hermione questioned, eyes narrowing.

"I am just saying," Ron sprung to his defense, "that it would be best to make sure. Especially since you're trying to get a little action. Though, who knows, that may be Snape's thing."

My, how this conversation was spiraling out of control quite spectacularly.

"I am going to pretend that you're not asking me to check my pants, okay Ron?"

"But—"

"You are so crass, Ron," Hermione muttered as she rolled her eyes. "I am going to go see if I can't find a book for this. Ron, you go check dinner. Harry, don't blow up the house."

"Yes, ma'am," the two boys said in unison as Ron dutifully walked out with his girlfriend. Harry nearly smirked when he heard the redhead mutter something that sounded like, "Try and help a friend out and you get called crass. I would hate it if it happened to me, is all and—"

Harry listened as the mumbling died down and he closed his eyes. He really wished that Albus were here and not upstairs in magical limbo. He could really use his mentor and friend right now. This just seemed to be getting more and more complicated, and the young man wondered if this would ever work. What did this new development mean? More training, that's for sure, but would it help or hinder what progress he had finally made. He had a feeling that what had just happened was really important, but he wasn't sure how.

"This really stinks," Harry spoke out to the empty room.

Slowly opening his eyes, the teenager looked around, listening to the quiet of the room except for the rain still hitting the windows.

He lasted all of about a minute.

Maybe two.

Alright, he couldn't take it anymore.

Bringing his hands down to the waste of his jeans, he hooked his thumbs underneath them, catching the tops of his underwear as well, and lifted them up.

He took a deep breath and looked down.

Oh, thank goodness.

Harry slowly lowered his pants and jeans back down. And closed his eyes. At least that was one worry gone.

After all, it didn't hurt to check.

* * *

Even though Hermione had combed through several books, they could not find a better explanation other than their initial theory that, however accidental, Harry had stayed in his magical core while awake.

When he had told Severus later on, the older wizard had been annoyed, if not slightly angry, that Harry had decided to rush into meditation and had probably messed up weeks, if not months of training, but the teen knew that the man was also very curious about that this could mean. He did not stay upset for long, and began to also take part in his own questioning. Working to get some sort of answer.

The one big question: could Harry go into the red area without meditating again?

The only way to answer this, the only way to solve the mystery of just what the red space would do if accessed conciously, was to do it again.

To try and recreate what had happened as a fluke.

Easier said than done.

Expectedly, there were training sessions to follow, where Severus set out to test Harry's magic, evaluate its level. It was just like always, which ended up being a cause for great discourage.

Harry had been confused and slightly aggitated to find that his magic didn't seem to increase at all. He was still able to call upon elemental magic, but he did not feel any difference whatsoever and any attempt to return to the red area during consciousness proved to be fruitless. After training, he would come home to have Hermione poke and prod him, setting up different scenarios outside of battle that might be a catalyst for accessing his magic in such an extreme fashion once again.

Nothing.

Every so often, he would think that he saw a flash of pink, but it was gone so fast that he was worried it was more wishful thinking than anything else.

As much as Harry tried, pushing himself to the limit in training and staying up late into the night retrying any experiment Hermione had set up during that evening, there was still no spike of power, nothing new.

Even though it had rather worried him at the when it had happened, the teen wizard would give anything to see things red once more.

He had been so frustrated, that today during training it seemed to come to a head, and after trying to get a spike in his magic and coming up empty, Harry had growled out a series of curses, hauling off and kicking a tree.

Not exactly his smartest move.

But it had felt damn good at the time.

Both Severus and Hermione had said he deserved the injured foot he received as a result and refused to heal it, leaving the hopeful savior of the wizarding world to all but pout in Severus's—now practically his own—bedroom with a very sore foot and a sour look on his face. He shifted in the bed, readjusting the old, baggy red shirt he was wearing as he basked in moody thoughts.  
Trying to figure out just where he was going wrong.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

Harry turned and looked at the doorway. Severus was standing there at full height, black robes bolstering him like armor, making him seem a bit broader than he was; Harry had never noticed it before.

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself," he replied as he turned to look back at the window.

"Of course not, and I dance ballet in my spare time."

"You would look good in tights."

"We shall just let that comment slide, for now."

Harry felt a weight on the side of the bed and turned to see the Potions Master sitting at the foot of it, looking at him with dark, penetrating eyes. As a last resort to maintain—well, he wasn't quite sure—Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest. Severus continued to look at him for a few long seconds, the two of them having a sort of staring contest. They did this a lot now. During dinner. Or on the training field. In the sitting room.

Everywhere.

Usually, it led to a kiss or an embrace later on, when they were alone. If they were alone, it led to one, the other, or both, moving towards each other. Since his meditation, however, they had not done that. Everyone had been so focused on trying to get Harry back to the red area.

So now that the stare was back, Harry didn't know what it would lead to.

He watched as Severus brought out his wand, finally breaking eye contact, as he waved it over his right foot, healing it with a wordless incantation. Harry rolled his ankle a few times, testing it out.

"Thanks."

"You are too hard on yourself."

It was said quietly, but it still caused Harry a fit of coughs from surprise. This could not be Severus Snape. Great Git and hard ass extraodinaire. "What? Who are you now?"

"Oh, shut up you little nit-wit."

Oh, good.

"That's more like it. You scared me there for a minute." Harry gave a small, half grin.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Childish. You have been trying to force something that should be natural."

"I need to be able to do this," the younger man said stubbornly.

"Then do it you shall," Severus said as he rose up from the bed, "but staying up till all hours, getting no sleep and then training the way we do is not going to help. Honestly, who takes care of you? You seem to be fool bent of not taking care of yourself."

Harry looked down at his hands. "Usually, it was Hermione, but she has kinda backed off nowadays."

"Too involved with Weasley."

"No," Harry looked up. "I guess she thought that…"

He couldn't finish. His mouth hanging lose with the unfinished statement.

She thought that Severus would do it now.

Just like Harry took care of Severus, Severus was to take care of him. Was taking care of him.

There was the stare again.

"Did I ever tell you that I can cook?" Severus asked. It seemed like such a casual question, but considering it was said while dark eyes bore into him, Harry could not help but try to see what it could possibly mean. It couldn't be as simple as it sounded.

"No…"

"Of course, it is quite like potions, so to be a master of that, I am quite proficient in the kitchen."

Harry still felt on unsure ground. "Okay."

"Stay," Severus commanded as he turned, robes flowing around him from the movement. He walked out the door.

Harry was about to protest that he was, in fact, not a dog and should not be commanded as such, but the older man was already gone.

He stayed.

Even though his foot was healed, giving him no reason to real reason other than Severus's command, he stayed lying in the bed. His thoughts wandered to the man who had disappeared. Possibly to cook if his odd statements were anything to go by. Eventually, his guess as to the older man's whereabouts was confirmed, when the smell of food made its way up the stairs, hitting Harry's nose and instantly making him hungry. Not too long after, Severus entered the doorway once more, this time weighted down with a tray of food.

"I do not normally cook for other people," Severus said as he set the tray down, showing two shepherd's pies.

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Thank you."

"You are welcome."

The two ate relatively quickly, in silence. The clinking of their silver ware to the china bowls providing most of the sound to the room. Severus had taken up sitting on the other side of the bed, the two wizards with the bowls of food in their laps. It wasn't until they were both nearly done, that Severus spoke again.

"I do not say it often, nor will I, because you should not get a big head, but you are doing a good job. With everything."

Harry swallowed, setting his fork down as he listened to the older wizard.

"I used to question Albus's faith in you, thinking that there is no way a child could handle being a leader. You have, however, proven that you can do this, if not that you are a little rash at times. Idiotic at other."

"Thanks."

"Do not interrupt. Just do not lose sight of one thing, in pursuit of another. Becoming too focused can become just as bad as not being focused enough. I should know. I became too focused on Wizarding purity, and it led to my involvement in the Death Eaters."

Harry turned to fully look at Severus, who was looking more at his food than anything else. "You gonna stick around to help me?" He had to ask.

Severus scoffed. "Foolish boy," he muttered, "Are you ready for desert?

He was confused for only a split second by the change in topic, but there was a key word that caused Harry's ears perked.

Desert

"Really?"

"Yes. Desert happens to be a specialty of mine," the taller wizard said as he reached into his robes, fishing something out.

He pulled out a small jar and spoon. The jar looked like one of the jams they had stocked for biscuits at tea and toast in the morning.

"Wow, you really went all out with this."

"Hush and lie back."

Harry's mind took a moment to process that command.

Yea, okay, he could lie back now.

Moving the bowl in his lap away, the teen quickly laid down on the bed, scooting his head a little on the pillow. The act made his hair stick up, fan out.

"Now," Severus said as he began to unscrew the top of the lid, taking it completely off. Harry's nose picked up the faint trace of cherry. The older wizard dipped the spoon in small jar. "Regretfully, this is more a desert for myself, but I trust that there are no objections on your end?"

Harry shook his head quickly.

Objections? What the heck was an objection anyway?

"Excellent. Then we shall not be needing this anymore."

A wave of Severus's wand later, and Harry's shirt was gone.

"I liked that shirt you know. I hope you didn't completely banish it."

Severus made a noncommittal noise. His eyes raking over the toned body that was lying on the bed. He had some doubt that Harry really even knew what power he could hold over people with his body, and that thought made it seem all the more appealing. He licked his lips.

Taking out a spoonful of the jam, Severus brought it over the young man's stomach, turning it over and watching as it dropped down, hitting the smooth skin. Harry made a small hissing noise at the contact.

"Feel's weird," he muttered. his eyes hooding over.

"Allow me to alleviate you of it." Leaning forward, Severus flattened his tongue against the tight skin, grinning internally at the jump of surprised muscles underneath. In a broad stroke, he licked the jam off Harry.

He dipped the spoon back in, this time letting the jam fall over an already budding, dark brown nipple. That lick earned him what was fast becoming his favorite noise, a squeak, followed by a high-pitched moan.

He decided to focus all of his attention there.

Harry's hands fisted in the sheets as Severus continued to place spoonful after spoonful of the cherry jam over his chest, almost immediately licking it up. The texture of the tongue against his skin was a kind of blissful torture that Harry found could easily beat sliced bread, the wheel, and rainbows as the best invention ever.

His breathing had become quite erratic, causing a few spots to form in front of his eyes, warning him that he needed to take in more oxygen. Severus did not relent in his massage. Not once. His hands moving out away to also rub his pecs, but he always returned to their epicenter.

Without even realizing it, Severus had finished off the jar and was now simply licking and sucking at Harry's chest, a hand slowly working up to play with one nipple, while his mouth assaulted the other. His somewhat sharp and slightly crooked teeth would come into play, giving the occasional bite that had Harry practically thrashing on the bed. He knew he should be embarrassed for the noises that were coming out of his mouth, and he did worry for a brief second about if the others could hear him, but his thoughts—all of them—were being chased away. He wasn't even thinking about the red area anymore. He was just a mass of sensations and nerves singing out from the treatment. Focusing in on the litte atreas that Severus was paring so much attention too.

Harry's breath quickened even more as Severus began to suck more firmly on his left nipple, dragging his nail down the right.

Harry had guessed from the very first time Severus had touched him there, that he had a particularly sensitive chest, but as Severus continued to tweak and nip, the teen was becoming all too aware just how sensitive he really was. It was too much.

Too fast.

"Wait," he panted out, "No. Wait. Severus, I'm—"

He didn't get to finish his warning.

At that moment, Severus had removed his mouth; dark eyes trained on Harry's face, as he brought both hands up and rolled each pebble hard nub between his thumb and forefinger.

Then pinched.

Harry's eyes clenched shut tightly as an explosion wracked his body, back arching off the bed from the sheer force of it. He had felt it coming, but his orgasm still took him by surprise with its severity and suddenness. All the while, keenly aware that Severus was watching him.

Watching this.

Harry could feel his body flush even more under the unwavering gaze.

He was under a magnified glass. No one had ever seen him like this before.

Finally, the rush subsided and Harry was able to breathe again, blinking his eyes open to stare at Severus, who was still very close to him, breathing deeply. The older wizard leaned in, sealing his mouth around Harry's, slowly licking the syllables to what felt like an incantation into the young man's mouth. Harry laid there limply accepting the kiss, trying to decide whether or not he should continue to be embarrassed by what had just happened, or if he should just let it go to the universe to work itself out.

Severus brought his face away from Harry's, placing a hand back on the now flushed chest. The teen suddenly realized just how sticky he felt. Not only on his chest and stomach, but his trousers as well. His face began to heat a little at the feeling. It did not look like Severus was going to laugh at him, though.

"You had asked," came the low voice, "if I was going to 'stick' around to help you." Severus flashed a smug grin, proud of himself for the teen's state. "What do you say now?"

"Definitely sticky," Harry said as his eyes began to droop. "That's a terrible pun."

"Wit is lost on Gryffindors." Severus leaned forward again, this time his mouth moving to ghost over Harry's ear. "I believe that it has been made quite clear on several occasions that I find myself inexplicable unable to avoid being stuck with you. You should realize this by now. Sleep, little fool. We shall take a fresh look at all of this when you are fully rested."

"But what about you?" Harry's words came out a little slurred from exhaustion.

He felt a kiss to his scar. His eyes went cross as he watched Severus's lips move away, then move as he began to speak. "Never mind about that. That will come later," the deep voice said richly. The few words seeming to cause Harry's eyes to drift close even more.

Harry nodded his head, still a little punch drunk. His eyes slowly fading shut, no matter how hard he fought to stay awake.

Severus pulled the blanket up and around the teen. He had let himself get carried away again, taking things farther than he probably should have but right now, but he really could not care whether he had rushed this or huried that. Not right now. After watching that little spectacle, Severus felt about as randy as he was in his twenties, but it also made him feel a sharp stab of protectiveness for the young man beneath him. He had set out to help Harry to clear his mind for a little while, but the escalation of the situation seemed to transfer all of the heavy thoughts to Severus.

He got out of the bed, careful to not disturb the finally slumbering young man, and headed out of the room.

He needed a cold shower.

Now.

* * *

It happened about three days later.

Harry was on an investigatory mission with Ron, Remus and another Auror by the name of Bintom. They were looking into a report Kingsley had received that a shop on near London was selling dark potions ingredients to Death Eaters. Severus had wanted to accompany them, but the mission fell during one of his more intense brewing sessions to attempt to help Albus. He seemed anxious about not going, but considering the case itself, the Potions Master felt this would be one mission that he could miss. Just to be sure, he gave Harry a drill about wandless incantations before they left. The boy would forget his ears if allowed.

Finally, late in the afternoon, they had found the little shop.

It became quite obvious very quickly that the owner and his sons weren't the friendliest of people.

They made a wolverine seem like a kitten by comparison.

Not powerful magically, but mean as could be. Didn't help that the man had enough sons to make a football team.

The group had gone in undercover, but did not count on their being a foe glass in the back room. The hexes started flying, filling the small room with smoke and even setting off a few of the flammable potion components.

Glass flew everywhere as the four men dodged out and away, trying to get out of the store, but also worried to not involve any civilians in the fight.

Harry sent out a stunning spell, doing his best to keep a shield up around himself and the others, He tried to focus on his magic, ready to send a burst of wind to hopefully knock one of the other adversaries down, when he saw it.

Blue.

The shop had a blue tent to it.

'Holy shit. Now?'

Not questioning it beyond that, Harry pressed on, seeing the white come in, making everything pale.

Finally, as he sent out one last stunning spell, his mind still wrapped around his magic, he got his wish.

He saw red.

The current sprung forth from his body, down to his toes and fingertips. Making Harry feel almost giddy with it.

He didn't know how long he had. He was probably going to fade back out at any minute. But as he felt the electricity arc between his fingertips, the young man thought that maybe a minute would be enough.

Hopefully.

"Ron," he said as he stood up. The power seemed to be building the more he brought it out, forced it to his hands. "Move," he said quietly. His shirt seemed to be floating around his skin from the energy running through it.

"What?" Ron yelled as he dodged a hex.

Harry began to shake with the effort of keeping the energy inside. Remus glanced over from across the way and saw his godson. Saw his face.

Then saw his hands.

"Out! Now!" The werewolf shouted to the other two. "Move! Move! Move!"

Ron looked confused for a split second, turning back to look at Harry, before he backed out of the shop with the others, making their retreat.

The teen brought a hand up, watching the red swirl all around him.

Harry suddenly wished Severus were there to help him, because he didn't have a clue about what new steps this mystery was going to take him. I perhaps, this was the answer.

He focused on the shopkeeper and his three remaining sons, who were still yelling and firing at him.

Harry began to call on the storm,

* * *

Thank you so much, much, much for reading Chapter 16!

* * *

Teasers for next chapter:

It was scary. You know, in a good way.

I think I may have discovered the diagnosis.

Teach me.

* * *

Reviews are loved like no other!


	18. Little Honking Author's Note

Okay, so this is more of a Little Honking Aurthor's Note.

*honk*

See there? Little honk.

This Note was originally to let people know that I was back to writing after a long Hiatus.

If your wondering why it is still here, I have kinda forgotten how works. If you delete a chapter, does it also delete the reviews that went with it? What about chapters after that?

Anyways, Chapter 17 is up! So onward to the story!


	19. When Hasty Plans Turn Out Right

**Disclaimer**: If you recognize something in this story, I do not own it, it belongs to someone else. If you don't recognize it, then it came from my crazy, mixed-up mind (be afraid...be oh, so afraid). No money has been, or will ever be made from this story.

**Warning: **this story contains Slash. A male/male relationship, and is rated M for a reason! There is also strong language and random bouts of snark. Oh, and the occasional misspelled word and grammatical error.

**A/N: ***The **Voice** of **Rhyme** and **Reason** has temporarily come to visit Point of Tears*

*kicks*

Point of Tears: Ow! What was that for?

VoRaR: You're kidding, right?

Point of Tears: Okay...so I'm a little late with this chapter.

VoRaR: A little late is a month. Do you even remember how to write?

Point of Tears: I do, too! I mean, I think so...

*kicks*

Point of Tears: Ow-w! What was **that** for?

VoRaR: It amuses me.

* * *

This is also a belated birthday gift to **Infinity Limited**. I am sorry that I did not get this posted by your birthday, but I hope you enjoy the chapter. This is also dedicated to all the readers who kept at least a little hope that this story would continue.

**Would anyone be willing to be a Beta Reader for me? My current Beta, Invader Shawn, has become busy with real life and I am really not the kind of writer to go without one or even several people proof reading it first. If you are interested, send me a PM!**

***Please note that this chapter contains scenes of mature/adult content. Mature scenes will be marked at beginning and end by asterisks (*) ***

* * *

Chapter 17: When Hasty Plans Turn Out Right

* * *

_Did you just make a dirty joke about Snape and Harry? ~Ron Weasley_

"—and then, just as we had gotten outside, it started to rain and the lightning was everywhere and then there were all these flashes of red light coming from inside the house—like lightning it was, ya know, totally wicked—and then—and then—"

Hermione's hand came up in a stopping gesture—which held an amazing power that had nothing whatsoever to do with a spell—and effectively paused the redhead's explanation. The young witch did not even take her eyes away from her task at hand, which was healing up the minor cuts and applying bruise and burn salves that were covering a certain black and grey haired wizard who was a million kilometers away, given how quiet he was and the look in his eyes.

"Ron," Hermione finally said when she was certain that the wizard had stopped talking, "please breathe."

The young wizard was about to protest that he could, in fact, remember to breathe without being told to, thank you very much, but his body seemed to come to its own realization that it hadn't really been breathing all that much and, hey, that might just be somewhat important.

Ron took a deep, almost gasping breath.

He really hated when she was right.

"There. I'm breathing. Happy now?"

"Of course." Hermione still didn't look his way, distracted as she tended to the raw skin of Harry's hands.

The red head really wished his young friend would say something. Anything. This was somewhat unnerving.

"Um," Ron said as he rubbed his shoulder, feeling a spot on his sleeve where a hex had cut a hole. "Can I continue my story now?"

"Please do," the young healer said calmly. Like she wasn't the least bit worried that their friend had seemingly become a walking, grey-eyed vegetable.

"Well, anyway, the red light got really bright, like there was lightning going off in the house. The ground even started shaking, like, you know, earthquake shaking. It was scary. You know, in a good way. Then, all of a sudden, it was over. Everything. Just…silence….That was when we went in and found Harry ….ya know…sitting on the floor….just…"

"In Harry-land?"

"Yeah."

Silence fell in the sunlit sitting room as Hermione still sat facing an unresponsive Harry on the couch when Ron stood off to the side, watching. He had a few wounds himself that would need a spell or two, but he could wait. Mostly, he just wanted to shake Harry. Wake him up. Snap him out of it and grab something to eat with him. But he was scared.

Yes, that's right. Scared.

He was scared to touch his best friend.

And he could tell that Hermione was also hesitant to touch him. Doing so only lightly to turn his hand to apply the salve with a spell.

At first, Ron had told himself that it was because Harry was hurt.

Then he forced his mind to admit that it was because he was afraid of getting hurt himself.

Like Harry was some dangerous…

weapon from his arsenal books…

Bloody hell.

Ron brought his hand up to rub his face. Wincing slightly when he irritated a small cut in his left cheek.

Unanswered questions made the room seem heavy, despite the slight breeze that blew in through a cracked window, causing the sheer curtain to billow out a bit into the room.

Finally, Hermione quietly broke the silence, asking one of those questions. One that Ron knew Hermione knew the answer to, or at least had some idea. Had to know. But also had to ask. Ron hated those kinds of questions. They were usually never good.

"What happened to the other men in the house?"

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but he never got even to the first syllable.

With no warning, Harry stood up from his spot on the couch, startling both of his friends with the suddenness of his movements. He still didn't say a word, still the far off look. Ron shifted on his feet, expecting now to be the time that his shorter friend would talk. Do something.

And he did.

He walked out.

That was it.

Harry just walked out into the entryway of the Grimauld, the sound of his footsteps hinting to the other two that he had gone up the stairs. They both stayed silent as they heard the noise fade out. Ron's eyes were fixed on the doorway that Harry had just exited; Hermione's were on the spot on the couch that still had an indent from where he had just sat. When the Ron looked at her, he immediately recognized.

It meant that she was trying to decide whether to hit Harry upside the head, or hug him.

Ron's money was on both.

Possibly at the same time.

He sighed and sat down on the couch beside his girlfriend.

"Think we should go after him?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I think this is one of those times then he needs his space."

The unsaid, "for now," was just understood.

They weren't going to just let Harry stay in his...whatever...for very long.

Ron put his arm around Hermione's shoulder and drew her closer to him on the couch. She leaned her head against him and they stayed like that for a few, still moments. Blue and brown eyes now following the movement of the curtain a few meters away.

"What happened back there?"

Ron was about to ask what she meant, because it all just seemed confusing to him sometimes, but he took a stab in the dark that she was meaning during the fight just a few hours ago.

"Place was utterly trashed. Rubbish and broken furniture everywhere."

"And the four men?"

"Dunno."

Hermione turned her head to look up at him, moving her hair out of the way to see him better and for Ron to see the look of confusion on her face.

"What do you mean, 'dunno'," And Ron smiled slightly. It was always fun to hear the young woman talk in slang.

"I mean I don't know. There wasn't a trace of them. It was like they just," he shrugged, "vanished."

"Could they have dissaperated?"

The red head shook his head. "I seriously doubt it. Their wands were left behind...and their clothes."

"Their clothing?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised high in both question and disbelief.

"Yep. All of it. Kind of hope the naked part came after they disappeared and not before. That may be why Harry isn't talking. I think I'd need a remembral for my own name if I saw them starkers."

"Be serious."

"Oh, I am! You should have seen some of those guys," the tall wizard shuddered at the mental image.

Hermione just shook her head, not saying anymore as she sat up and turned, beginning the few healing spells that Ron needed, even magically mending the hole in his sleeve.

"Is it bad that I'm scared?" Ron asked as the last of his cuts vanished, leaving only a faint pink tine of new skin. "I mean not scared, cause that's just silly. What I mean is—"

"Terrified."

Ron shot the young woman a small glare that went almost unnoticed. "Not quite what I was going for."

"Trust me; your manliness is still intact. This is a scary situation."

"Yea, but I'm talking about Harry."

"So am I."

Oh.

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh. You aren't really scared of Harry"

"I—I'm not?"

"You're scared of the situation that is currently surrounding Harry."

Ron thought about that for a moment. He still trusted his friend, still would fight alongside him as they have always done since they first met. Was he really afraid of him? Is Harry still Harry? Could the situation effect him to the point that the person and the-

Ron was getting a headache.

"I think I need a sandwich or something to deal with this deep stuff."

"Ron."

"What? I'm hungry. And you can't possibly expect a man to think about situations and things when he is hungry, can you?"

"Of course not," Hermione deadpanned. "How silly of me."

Ron stood and stretched, his muscles still aching from the recent fight, despite the fact that there were no outward signs of battle. "I have a great plan."

"I'm sure you do."

"First, we eat."

"You mean you'll eat."

"And then we will have a deep conversation," Ron said. He couldn't help wagging his eyebrows a bit at the brunette, grinning lopsidedly.

Hermione just smiled up at him. "You mean you'll be having a 'deep conversation' with yourself."

Ouch.

"You wound me!"

"I wish, sometimes, with that crass humor."

"My humor is a lost art. Anyway, after that, we can go hunt down our catatonic friend and play a game of Smack Some Sense into him."

That said, Ron leaned down to give the young witch on the couch a kiss. He made it nearly there, when a loud noise, the clearing of a throat, came from the entryway, startling the two teens. Ron stood quickly and looked, only to be greater Snape. The Potions Master stood there, arms crossed over his chest and the usual, slight scowl to his face.

Ron couldn't help but match the expression. And then some. He couldn't help but think that the older man had done that on purpose.

"How nice to see you," the red head said flatly.

Snap raised an eyebrow. "So sorry to interrupt a touching moment."

No he wasn't.

"Is there something the matter, Mr. Snape?" Hermione asked, finally standing from the couch by Ron.

"I have come to gather the Order to give my-where is Harry?"

Ron had to blink a few times from the sudden change of topic."Uh, we don't know. See, the was a fight earlier and Harry-"

He didn't get to finish his explanation. With a quick turn on his heels, Snape was gone with a sweep of black robes and a stomping of feet. Ron didn't even have to guess. He knew the man was going upstairs.

"Well," said Ron, "I guess that takes care of item number three on our list. Do you think Snape will be able to knock some sense into Harry?"

Hermione started to walk out of the sitting room, speaking with her back to her boyfriend. "Oh, he'll knock something into him."

Ron nodded his head. He stopped, though, when the words sank in.

His eyes widened.

Did she…

"Hey!" he yelled as he followed the silently laughing witch into the kitchen. "Did you just make a dirty joke about Snape and Harry?"

* * *

Severus only had to look in a few places before he found Harry. There were only so many places he could go without alerting The Order to his whereabouts. At first, Severus had thought the teen to be utterly ridiculous and even childish for trying to hide or thinking he could hide, however he now had a feeling that Harry was not so much hiding as he just simply wanted to be left alone, a sentiment that Severus could very well understand. It is why when he saw the young man sitting near the very tiny window that graced the far corner of the attic, he was tempted to leave him be.

For all of two seconds.

"This seems a little melodramatic, but given your propensity for overreaction at times such as these, it is not a surprise."

He is really just looking for a reaction. Something to snap Harry out of his self-imposed state. To see his eyes flash with emotion, instead of just staring dully out that damned window. He didn't even get a head turn. Not even a hint of acknowledgement.

This is unacceptable.

Severus crossed the room, careful to not trip over the many boxes and dust-ridden furniture that occupied Grimmauld attic. When he finally made it over to Harry, he continued to attempt a reaction by standing over—looming—over the black and grey haired man. Harry, however, continued to look out the window. The skin of his hands still a pink coloring from the healing salves that Granger had undoubtedly administered. His face was impassive, giving noting away as to what he was thinking or feeling.

When Severus turned to look out the window himself, it was a simple scene of the street down below. There was a couple walking hand in hand down the sidewalk across the way. A car drove past.

Severus gave a mighty, internal sigh as he sat down in the dust next to Harry.

The two sat there, staring out the dingy window at the street below. Severus believed that, like previous times, Harry would simply begin to talk if given enough time, but as the minutes ticked by, it became obvious that Harry was either not going to talk, or the timeframe he needed before he would just did not work for this situation.

"You are being childish."

Nothing.

"Spoiled."

Zilch.

"A brat."

Zero.

"For magic's sake!" Severus finally was fed up. He brought he hand up and popped the silent young man in the back of the head. "Snap out of it, Harry!"

Harry only blinked, owlishly a few times and continued to stare out the window.

Severus took a deep breath through his nose in an attempt to calm down and collect his thoughts. He should just get up and leave. Let Harry have this time if he was going to be so stubborn about it. He looked back to the window in time to see a bird land on the windowsill. It cocked his head to the side, almost like it could tell that there was an awkward situation going on inside and he wanted nothing to do with it and flew off.

'A smart bird,' Severus thought as he cut his eyes over to Harry again.

The young man's grey eyes were not actually looking out the window, but were looking past the window, looking out into subspace. His shoulders were not hunched down like they normally were when Harry became self-pitying. No, they were rigid and his back straight, almost as if he was beginning a meditation session.

"Harry." Severus did not even think as he turned and reached up again. This time, though, it was not to smack the young man, but he brought his arm around the other's shoulder and pulled. It was not until Harry was leaning over, head lying against his chest that he realized that he was hugging the man.

'I have officially gone soft. Absolute mush.'

He was about to release the young, silent wizard. About to say something sarcastic and witty. Anything to save face from the fact that he had just willingly decided to engage in a hug. Severus did not get that far though, because in a split instant Harry's arms came up and encircled the Potions Master, his head burying further into the older man's black robes.

Severus's arms had come up slightly in surprise from the quick action. Slowly, he lowered them to wrap around the slighter man, resting on his back.

It wasn't until a sob wracked the teen's body that Severus realized what was happening.

Harry was crying.

Dark eyes flashed for a moment with panic. He could not possibly handle a situation like this. This was more than he had bargained for. Perhaps he should leave and go get Granger or possibly Mrs. Weasley. They would be better suited for dealing with such an emotional—

Those thoughts flew off just as that little bird when Harry shook again, clung tighter to Severus's robes.

Severus's brow knit together as he, too, tightened his hold on the grey and black haired young man. The way that they were seated was awkward, so—and until the day he dies, Severus will swear it was only because he was out of his element and it was a moment of panic—the older man drew the young in and up, essentially manhandling him into his lap. Harry's face stayed hidden the entire time. When Severus was satisfied with the way Harry was sitting, he brought one arm around the teen's body while the other went up, hand going through Harry's hair.

"You do not have to tell me what is wrong," he eventually said, after Harry's sobs had seemed to calm. "But you must understand that I am persistent and I will figure out what is going on."

There was a distinctive sniff from under his chin and Severus worries for a moment that the young man has used his robes as a handkerchief. Harry brought his head up finally, eyes slightly red from his crying. He tilted his chin slightly to look up at the taller man. Severus stomped down the urge to do anything else too maudlin, like wipe his tears, or rock him.

Or kiss his nose.

"I'm sorry."

Severus blinked at the first words the teen uttered. "Oh, lord, you really did use my robe to blow your nose, didn't you?"

Again, let it be said that he is a Potions Master, not an emotions master.

Amazingly, the teen gave a very small chuckle. Harry let go with one hand to wipe his cheeks, but he stayed close to Severus. He sobered quickly, looking away.

"I killed them."

Sadly, the older of the two was not surprised that this is the problem plaguing the young wizard.

"You were in the middle of battle, casualties are to be expected."

"Yea, but—" Harry closed his eyes. Shook his head. "Not like that."

"Perhaps I would be better able to assist you if I were more informed about the situation."

The young man sighed and opened his eyes, looking up at Severus again. "I went into the red area during the battle."

Severus's eyebrows rose. "Were you able to control it?"

"Yes, but…I didn't have to do that…" Harry drifted.

Severus brought his hand from the back of Harry's head to his neck, rubbing a little to get the teen back to reality.

"You will have to explain exactly 'that' is."

"I think I turned them into magic."

The older man blinked. Then blinked again. "You think that you turned them into…magic?"

Harry nodded. "While I was in the red area my magic was like the red—lightning—stuff and when they tried to cast a spell at me again, I hit one of them with a blast of magic and he," Harry shuddered a little in Severus's arms, "glowed red for a second before he, well, broke apart."

Severus had a terrible mental image from that. "Broke apart?"

Harry seemed to get a little frustrated. Whether it was with Severus or himself, it was difficult to tell. "I don't know how else to explain it. It was like he slowly broke apart in to red lights until there was nothing left."

Well. That is quite different.

"That isn't the worst part though," Harry went on.

"Oh, really?"

"Yea. The other two turned to run. I was still so angry and there was all this energy and I just kept thinking about everything that they had done and I—Severus I hit one of them when his back was turned!"

Harry looked like he may start crying again and Severus really did not know if he could handle that.

"I'm turning into a monster." Harry's voice broke at the last word.

All right, that is it.

"Harry, I want you to listen to me and listen well," Severus brought both of his hands to Harry's upper arms, pulling the teen away from him a little and turning him slightly to look him straight in his grey eyes. "You are being an idiot. You are not, nor will you ever be a monster. You did, in fact, become overwhelmed by your emotions and your magic. I doubt we can do too much to help with your emotions, typical Gryffindor, but your magic we can work on and hone. Next time that you enter the red area, it will not overwhelm you."

Harry looked at him for a moment before he cut his eyes to the side. "Ron and Hermione are afraid of me."

Severus could not help but snort, causing Harry's eyes to turn back to him. "They are no more scared of you than they would be a rabbit. Honestly, towards them, I think the rabbit may be more deadly."

"But they—"

"What is more than likely the case is that they are overly worried about the current and future situations and are scared for you. A very distinct difference."

Harry narrowed his eyes in skepticism and looked down, but didn't say anything to negate Severus's statement.

"I'm sitting in your lap."

The Potions Master rolled his eyes. "Please do not tell me that you are just now realizing this fact."

"Thank you," Harry said honestly. He looked back up at the taller man.

Severus snorted. "I am becoming an absolute sap. I find this entire situation absolutely deplorable."

Harry smiled and nodded. "Whatever you say."

The older man watched with dark, ever-observant eyes as the young man slowly got up and out of his lap, absolutely not missing the warmth that was now gone. Harry still seemed unsure, even though he was now responsive. He also noticed that the teen's feet were not touching the floor again. In fact, it was several centimeters, very noticeable.

"You cannot react this way to battle," he said sternly.

"You can say that," Harry responded, "but that doesn't mean that I am going to listen." He extended his hand towards Severus.

Severus raised a dark brow, "You must be joking?"

"About offering my hand or not listening to you?" Harry asked, arm tilting slightly to the side. Severus was reminded of the little bird in the window.

Severus stood, without the aid of a hand. He looked Harry straight in the eye, watching as Harry's own brow line disappeared into his black and grey hair. He looked down at his feet, then cursed quietly under his breath.

"I think you realize what this means."

"More training?"

Severus threw up his arms in sarcastic triumph. "There may just be hope yet. I am going downstairs. I need to assemble The Order to give a report of some findings that concern Albus's condition." He began to make his way across the attic, knowing full and well that he had caught the curiosity of the young Gryffindor.

"What sort of findings?" Harry asked as he jogged the few steps to catch up to Severus.

"You are just going to have to come down to the meeting, then, because I am not going to repeat myself."

"But I'm special!"

"Oh, yes," came the sardonic reply, "in many ways."

"Hey!" Harry reached out and grabbed Severus's hand, making him stop and turn around. "I—I mean it. Thank you."

"You may make it up to me by never doing that again. Feeling sorry for yourself will not change what happened and shutting down will only make things worse!" Severus's face and words were set in an almost angry manner, but his hand gave him away, squeezing Harry's slightly.

"You really are the sweetest," Harry said with a small smile.

Severus's cheeks turned a very faint pink as his eyes narrowed. "I am leaving now."

Harry chuckled as the older man turned on his heels and started walking again. He did not feel quite right still. There was still regret. Severe regret over what happened. His mind wandered as he thought about what would happen if an innocent person got in the way of his magic. What if—

Smack!

"Ow!" Harry brought his hand up to the back of his hand that now smarted from the Potions Master's slap.

Severus pointed a finger straight at Harry's nose. "Stop!"

"It's not like it's going to go away, right away!" Harry said with a little more heat to his voice, still rubbing the back of his head. "And that hurt!"

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"Learn to duck?" Harry couldn't seem to help the sarcasm.

Severus rolled his eyes, then glared at him again.

Harry sighed. "I am working on this, I swear. This was just…"

"Of course it is not going away. I am not asking you to ignore it. I am asking you to learn and move on."

"And what if I can't on my own?"

"Well then it is a good thing that you are not alone, then, isn't it?"

They had been raising their voices, and slowly been getting in each other's personal space, but the things that they were saying were not really those meant for an argument.

"Are we fighting? I'm confused!" Harry said; his voice was still loud.

Severus did not lower his volume either. "Love is confusing!"

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

The wind was taken out of Harry's sails instantly. His face fell as his mouth dropped open slightly. "Huh?"

Severus went on as though he had not realized what he had just said. "Now come on. I need to talk to The Order and you are pertinent to the discussion."

And perhaps he really didn't know what he had just said.

The older man reached out and wrapped his hand around the younger's wrist, pulling as he walked until the still slightly dazed teen followed behind him.

"You will be the death of me, asinine, impetuous boy," Severus grumbled as they began to descend the stairs, his hand still on Harry's wrist.

'Huh….love…'

* * *

It didn't take long to send out the signal to assemble The Order. Those that were able to, that were not held up in some type of mission, were soon assembled around the dining table at Grimmauld place. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been some of the first to arrive and with Hermione's help, they had cast a few spells to start a small meal cooking for those who would want it and two pots of coffee because everyone seemed to need it. Barely anyone actually sat at the table; there seemed to be an energy about the place that prevented anyone from getting too comfortable. Most were just whispering as to what the impromptu meeting could be about. Others were whispering about the battle that had happened earlier. Harry was grateful that no one was asking him any questions about the incident, though from the few pointed stares he got, he had a feeling that there were several versions of the story now floating around. The grey-eyed teen stayed off to the side with Ron and Hermione, until Severus finally called the meeting to order.

"I shall make this brief since I am well aware that many of you are quite busy. You have all asked to be kept abridged about the condition of Albus Dumbledore and the research into finding a cure. I think I may have discovered the diagnosis."

"You think?" Remus was the first to ask.

"Yes. I cannot say without a shred of…some...doubt," Severus said as his nostrils flared ever so slightly at the comment from his once school rival, "But after conducting several experiments and research, this seems to be the logical explanation. Does that satisfy you?"

Remus put up his hands in a surrendering fashion. "Of course. Please, what have you found?"

Severus straightened his robes and looked to the room at large. "I, and Madame Pomfrey agrees, that Albus is most likely suffering from something of a magical autoimmune disease."

The room was silent for a few moments as everyone digested this information. A few of the Order members nodded their heads, having at least some understanding of what the ex-Death Eater was talking about. Others, not so much.

"Say what, now?" Ron finally asked.

"It means, Weasley, that the Headmaster's magic is literally attacking and killing his body from the inside out."

A few of the people around the room visibly shuddered, Harry included. That just sounded awful. Worse than awful. The idea seemed to be a little too much for Mrs. Weasley, who quickly excused herself to go back to the kitchen to see to dinner. Hermione threw a worried look to both Ron and Harry and quickly went after her.

"Can this be cured?" Mr. Weasley asked the Potions Master. His eyes, though, were on the door that his wife had just exited.

"I cannot be certain. Nothing of this nature has ever been completely recorded in magical medical journals. However, there is one possible idea, thanks to our own Mr. Potter."

Every eye in the room turned towards the grey-eyed wizard and Harry had to fight the urge to take a few steps back. "Er…I did thought of what, exactly?"

He could really kill Severus right now for putting him on the spot like this.

"It is not so much what you have thought of, as what you do. During your meditations you gain access to your magical core, correct?"

"I believe that using some form of magical connection would also allow you to slip into someone else's magical core."

"That…sounds really—"

"Weird," Ron interrupted.

"Personal," Harry finished.

"It may very well be, but the ability to have an outside force—a powerful outside force that is equal to Albus's—be able to break through whatever spell the dark lord has cast, then there is a good chance that his magical core could be stabilized."

"This seems like quite a few 'chances' and 'maybes' and 'what ifs'" George interjected. "What happens if you're wrong?"

Severus straightened ever so slightly. "Then there does run a risk that we could cause further damage. This is, however, the most logical, and at this point only feasible, explanation for what is occurring."

"Would you be willing to do this, Harry," Kingsley asked from his chair.

Harry was once again confronted by a roomful of expectant stairs. Could he do this? Did he want to? What if something worse happened? This was not a sure thing. Albus could even die because they went and messed with his magic. The young man's eyes find Severus's, as if trying to find his answer there. The dark eyes are serious. Confident. And something else, too.

Something like hope.

Harry has his answer.

"Yea—yes, I'll do it."

A few of The Order members nodded before Kingsley spoke again. "When can this be done?"

"Just as soon as proper tests are completed to prove it can be done," said Severus; his eyes were still on Harry's.

There were a few murmurs of agreement as the meeting disbanded. Several of The Order members even got up to give a small congratulation, a handshake to the Potions Master on his discovery. Even Harry got a few pats on the shoulder as people started to file out of the room and out into the hallway to the apparation spot, but Harry didn't know why. Was it for his agreement? Or for luck? At this point Harry was thinking the latter of the two was the case. The more he thought about this, the greater the risk appeared. Were they really going to go in and mess with another person's magic, with Albus's magic? Harry's mind flashed back to the three men who had vanished into red lights and his stomach rolled. He immediately pushed the thought away and began picking at the worn, deep purple tablecloth that dressed the dining room table as he waited for everyone to leave. Finally, Ron clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm gonna go check on 'Mione. You alright, mate?"

"Yea," Harry said as he continued to pick at the material. "I'm fine."

"Yea, sure you are. I think you picked a hole in the corner there."

Harry cut his eyes over at his redhead friend who was trying to lighten the situation. The younger man smiled a little. "Just go bother your girlfriend in the kitchen, okay?"

"Well, I know when I'm not wanted." He gave Harry's shoulder a light squeeze. "Making you a plate of food. You better eat it."

"Yes, mum."

"Prat," Ron tossed the insult casually over his shoulder as he walked out and to the kitchen where the smell of food was already drifting.

Finally, it was just Harry and Severus alone in the dining room. Harry finally stopped picking at the tablecloth and looked up. The taller—or at least taller when Harry had both feet on the ground—man was still standing in the same spot, arms crossed over his chest.

"Do you really think we can do this?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Now ask the better question."

What? Better question?

'Oh.'

"Do you think we'll succeed?"

Severus took a deep breath through his nose. "It is not a guarantee. In fact, there is quite a large contingency of failure or mishap, as I hope you are at least somewhat aware of due to your own dabbling in your magical core."

Harry nodded, taking a few steps around the table and towards Severus. "Do you think we can do this? You and I?"

Severus paused only for a moment before he answered quietly, "Yes, I believe we can."

The teen was still walking towards the man in front of him. He stopped just a few steps away. He reached out, took Severus's arms, and with a little effort, uncrossed the man's arms, dark eyes watching him the entire time. Harry moved the thin arms around until they were at Severus's side. He then brought his hands up to Severus's shoulders and pushed them a little until they finally sagged, relaxed just a bit. Harry kept his hands on the Potions Master's shoulders. The corner of his lips quirked upwards just a little.

"Then I believe you."

* * *

*****Begin Adult Content*****

Grey eyes stared back at Harry in the mirror as he brushed his teeth hastily in the upstairs bathroom. After The Order meeting, his mind kept replaying all the events that had happened during the day, all the things said. In fact, the whole replay seemed to be on fast forward, with his brain not seeming to be able to settle on one particular image for more than a few seconds before it would be off to the next. The whole thing proved to be quite the distraction through dinner, earning him several pokes in his ribs by Mrs. Weasley and Hermione.

After eating, the small group had gone into the library to talk. Mostly, it was an impromptu meeting between those present about how certain missions were going, reports on Death Eater activity, and Ministry hubbub. Harry tried to pay attention, really he did, but he just seemed to be on information overload and his mind simply said, 'No'. He contributed a little to the conversation, but mostly he just sat back in his overstuffed chair, let the words wash over him, and let his eyes and mind wander. If anyone noticed, no one said anything.

By this point, the memories that he had apparently decided to fixate on had to do with Severus, and maybe that was because the man in question was sitting right in front of him, talking to Kingsley.

What did happen in the attic earlier this afternoon? They had been fighting, hadn't they?

Sort of.

Kind of.

Not Really.

They had been yelling, though, and both just generally frustrated and upset.

And then Severus had said it. Love.

Perhaps Harry had even heard it wrong. What sounds like love? Dove? Above? Glove? None of those made any sense. Shove? That one was a little better, but not by much.

Harry leaned farther back in the chair and nodded at something Ron had said about armor or the like. Perhaps Severus had not really been referring to them specifically, but more as a broad subject. Although, that seems a bit of a reach since Severus would be more likely to wear a coconut bra than expel the virtues and perils of love in a general sense.

Harry looked over at the dark eyed, dark haired man, trying to see if he could gain some type of insight into the other's body language. Severus sat, straight backed in the couch that he was sitting on, looking particularly uncomfortable. This wasn't a new thing. Severus often felt uncomfortable in group settings. Also, it could have a something-maybe slightly-to do with the fact that Harry kept looking at him. The other man avoided all eye contact, though, focusing on everything else and everyone else around the room. He had been that way the entire evening, even after Harry had told him he supported his plan to try to cure Albus.

Which the grey and black haired teen believed that the older man actually did realize what he had said that afternoon. He hadn't meant to say it, but he did, and was now avoiding the whole thing.

They were both pretty good at that when they wanted to be.

Wait.

Had he been avoiding it, too?

Did he love Severus?

No, don't be ridiculous.

Seems too fast, doesn't it?

Of course, they had been setting their own crazy pace since the very beginning, hadn't they? What would be different about now?

Harry's head was starting to hurt. He brought his hand up to rub at the side of his forehead in a futile attempt to find relief. He saw Severus's eyes finally look over at him at the movement. His dark eyes flashed with concern. The look made something in Harry's chest shift. He gave a small, lopsided smile and mouthed out the words that he was fine. Severus looked at him for a few more seconds before he nodded and returned to the conversation.

That was when Harry made up his mind. Severus was right, love is confusing, because he still wasn't sure if he was in love or not, but he cared and trusted Severus and he wasn't about to have the man shut down or back off simply because of saying a simple word. He would just have to help Severus get over it or face it, just as Severus had done for him on many occasions. There were three ways that they excelled at this task. The first was verbally yelling at each other-which had rather gotten them into this situation in the first place. The second was to physically fight, as in box. This, Harry felt, was not the proper course of action.

So that left the third way.

Harry had to fight back the rising heat to his face.

He liked the third way.

So, one very hasty plan for seduction later, and Harry is standing at the bathroom sink with a toothbrush in his mouth and is really starting to worry if this whole thing is going to work or not. Still brushing his teeth, he reached up with his other hand to try to smooth down his hair just a bit. The task was difficult and in the end he thought he had probably done more harm than good.

His reflection in the mirror took the toothbrush out of its mouth.

"So who are we trying to impress, hm? Do you really think you're going to do it looking like that?"

"Shut it," Harry mumbled back around a mouthful of toothpaste.

The reflection opened his mouth to say another gem to boost his confidence, when he heard a very distinct grumbling coming from the room across the hall. His and Severus's rooms.

"If I discover that Kreture is, yet again, damaging clothing in the laundry basket on purpose I shall be unaccountable for the..."

Harry quickly rinsed out his mouth and looked at the door to the bathroom, then back at the mirror.

His reflection winked. "Show Time!"

Right.

'What could go-'

Harry was not going finish that thought.

The teen poked his head outside the door to the bathroom to make sure there was no one else in the hallway to spot him before he made a mad dash for the bedroom door. He stopped just before it, straightened up a bit, and tried to flatten his hair down one more time before he slowly opened the door and went inside. Severus was on the other side of the room rummaging through a drawer in the wardrobe, his back to the younger man, as he continued to grumble. He was already in his pajama bottoms, a simple black cotton pair with a very small white strip pattern, but was still shirtless, a fact that made a Harry's heart rate increase ever so slightly.

This was what he had been hoping for when he had first thought of his plan. One of the odd things that he had noticed while sharing a bedroom with the man was that Severus wore his pajamas in order. That's right. He would wear only certain pajama sets on certain days.

Obsessive compulsive?

A little bit.

Anally retentive?

Possibly.

Something Harry thought was a little endearing, funny, and- as of this present moment-something he found very helpful.

The young man let Severus go on searching for a little while longer, smiling at some of the general insults the other man was mumbling darkly into the quiet room. Finally, when nerves and adrenaline won out, Harry cleared his throat to let Severus know that he was not alone in the room. The reaction was immediate. Severus stood straight up, startled, then whirled around with his eyebrows knitted together tight in irritation to no doubt tell Harry a thing or three about sneaking up and scaring people...

Only as soon as his eyes focused on Harry, all those words seemed to disappear, leaving the older man's mouth hanging open slightly, his eyes going a bit rounder in surprise.

Harry fought the urge to fidget or cross his arms or say something stupid as Severus continued to stare at him. At the time, that he had thought this up, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he wasn't so sure. His hand cane down to the hem of the shirt he was wearing.

A certain black with white striped pajama shirt that happened be the missing set to the ones Severus was wearing.

And not a stitch else.

The larger shirt came down low enough that it covered him, some. All of his legs were on display and if he raised his arms he would definitely be giving Severus a show. He had even had to cuff the sleeves so that he could use his hands.

He either looked sexy, or like a kid trying to play dress up.

Harry was really hoping it was sexy.

He brought his hand up to run his fingers through his hair, causing the left side of the shirt to rise considerably higher, showing off the skin of his hip.

Severus's eyes widened even more and he made this odd, grisly noise in the back of his throat.

Harry was starting to believe it was sexy. At least to Severus.

"Looking for something?" the younger man finally asked and instantly kicked himself for. What was that? Looking for something? Of all the cheesy things to say! Severus is probably going to laugh at him now and his whole plan would be ruined.

This time it was Harry's eyes that widened as Severus crossed the room quickly, only a few long strides at most, and was completely in the smaller man's personal space before he could blink, breathing heavily and eyes now hooded. Harry's heart somehow found the energy to beat even faster, his own breath speeding up to catch Severus's.

"Stealing another person's things is a very grievous offense," Severus said in a low voice. He seemed to be coming even closer.

Harry licked his lips and watched as Severus's eyes followed his tongue. "What are you going to do about it?"

That seemed to be all the invitation Severus needed. The Potions Master rushed forward, eliminating the already small gap between the two and sealed his mouth over Harry's, sucking on his bottom lip. Harry made a very appreciative sound as his eyes fluttered close and he responded back enthusiastically to the kiss, parting his mouth and allowing the older man access with his tongue.

They kissed like that for a few moments before Harry brought both of his arms up to circle around Severus's neck. The action caused the two men to come closer together and exposed Harry from just below his belly button and down. The cooler air on already heated, sensitive skin caused Harry to shiver in a most wonderful way, adding fuel to the fire and driving his urgency forward.

Severus hands dropped down to squeeze Harry's rear end, long fingers pressing into very soft flesh. The quick action had caused Harry to let out an odd, squeaky sound, followed by a moan; both of which were swallowed up by Severus's mouth still devouring his.

Harry carded his own fingers through long black strands of hair as the older man began to massage the cheeks of his butt more firmly. He accidentally pulled a on the hair a little and moaned when the hands began to move inward, towards the cleft. Harry felt a pang of loss when the hands moved away when he did that and the grey eyed wizard was about to break the kiss to apologize, though for what he had no idea. He knew this wasn't quite part of his plan but if Severus kept kissing him like that, then hell with the plan.

The kiss finally broke and Harry let out a loud gasp as Severus swept down just a bit, put his hands firmly under Harry's arse and lifted, drawing the younger man off the floor even more. Harry instinctively wrapped his legs around Severus's waist, tightened his hold on the other man's neck as he was lifted and brought closer.

"You are a tease," Severus said through labored breathing. They were so close that their noses were touching.

"Yea?" Harry's voice was shaky and breathy as well. He licked his bottom lip, then tilted his head and moved forward, licking slowly across Severus's bottom lip.

Severus made another sound in the back of his throat, this time more of a choked gargle.

That's a fun reaction.

Harry moved from the older man's lips to his cheek and then to his ear, kissing and licking a trail the entire way. It was when he began sucking on Severus's earlobe that the choked noise turned into a gasp and Harry found himself being spun around and laid down on the bed with Severus over him, kissing him in earnest once again.

'Remember the plan!' his lust-fogged mind tried to tell him.

Emphasis on tried.

He figured though that he could certainly enjoy this part for a little...long...while longer.

Running his hands downward, Harry began to give attention to Severus's hairy chest and stomach, enjoying the feel of it under his fingertips. One of Severus's hands was bracing the larger man up, while the other was on Harry's hip. With firm pressure, it would run up the smooth side of Harry's stomach, bunching the sleep shirt farther up as he did, and then back down to his thigh.

It wasn't until that hand started to wander inward and cupped him carefully, sending a fissure of pure need up Harry's spine that the young man remembered his plan.

With great reluctance, he broke the kiss. Severus moved back and looked down at his face, his expression one of worry as he began to move his hand.

Can't have that.

Harry quickly caught the other man by the wrist and slowly shook his head. Without a word, he moved the hand back to its spot, hissing quietly and letting out a small whimper at the contact. He kept his eyes on Severus; on those dark eyes that seemed even darker now, on his slightly flushed face, and willed his face to show trust, and that he wasn't afraid of this. Of whatever their feelings were and that Severus shouldn't be afraid either.

"Turn over."

In his plan, this was supposed to be said as a seductive command, but now that he was actually in the moment, he thought it sounded more like a plea. Oh well. Best laid plans.

He must have seen something in Harry's face, because Severus looked at him for only a moment before he leaned down for one, quick kiss and slowly removed his hand and turned over so that he was now lying with his back on the bed.

Harry was quick to follow the older man and as soon as Severus was settled, Harry straddled his lap. He fought down the blush from feeling Severus's own erection still trapped in his sleep pants with Harry's freed one.

He looked down at Severus as the older man placed both elegant hands on the teen's hips, running them up and down his thighs.

"Are you scared about what you said earlier? When you mentioned love," Harry asked as he did a slight roll of his hips, gasping and whimpering a little at the pressure.

Trying his best to scowl even as his eyes rolled back in his head, Severus answered him in a rush through gritted teeth. "By confronting me about this during such a compromised time you are playing in a completely unfair manner!"

Harry always marveled at Severus's ability to stay so articulate during these times.

Let's change that.

"And who said love is fair?" Harry asked.

There. It wasn't a declaration, but it put him on the exact same ground as the man underneath him.

Severus opened his eyes, throwing a questioning look at the young, half-naked man in his lap. "You are not-"

Harry leaned forward, placing his hand against Severus's mouth to stop him. "I'm not going anywhere, are you?"

The half-hearted glare he received at being interrupted was made even less effective by the Potions Master's continued state of arousal. Harry smiled when the man finally shook his head no from behind his fingers.

"Good. Remember what you said before? About setting our own pace? Let's just keep going and see where this road takes us, then. Alright?"

Severus stared up at him, his mouth still obstructed by Harry's fingers. Slowly, almost so slowly that Harry had thought he had imagined it, the older man nodded his head.

The kiss to the pads of his fingers confirmed it.

Harry smiled as he brought his hand down, resting it against Severus's chest.

"I still believe you entirely cheated."

"And I am entirely okay with that."

Harry reached up and began to unbutton the shirt, willing himself to not get embarrassed. He'll, Severus had pretty much seen everything, so modesty should be right out. Still, he couldn't help the blush that infused his face, neck and chest from the intense stare that his bed partner had locked on him. When he was done, he left the garment on, but opened it up more.

"Now let's see if we can't get you to make some embarrassing sex noises, as well."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"I'm going to make you squeak," Harry said with a warm smile.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "I do not squeak."

"We'll see."

Harry leaned down, lying flat against Severus's chest as his mouth latched onto the older wizard's long neck, kissing, biting and sucking while his hands roamed up and down long, strong arms.

The noise that Severus made was more like a hum than anything else; a deep and almost melodic hum that caused Harry's whole body to pulse.

He moved downward to Severus's chest, slowly kissing his way over to one of the dark pink nipples and gave it a small lick. He heard a gasp come from up above him. Harry smiled against warm skin as he began nipping and licking more insistently, actually causing Severus to actually start to squirm a bit. After he had made sure that Severus's chest had received enough attention and the Potions Master was panting, sweating, and making small moaning noises every so often.

Moving down, Harry made sure to keep as much bodily contact as possible and was quick to realize that the man's stomach was not as sensitive as his own, so he moved onward and downward. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Severus's black pants, pulling it down.

He had seen Severus naked, but he had never seen him like this. This erect. It almost looked angry. Harry's body pulsed again in sympathy.

He looked up at Severus who was looking down at him with heavy lidded eyes, his face the reddest Harry had ever seen it.

"Teach me."

Severus sucked in a breath through his nose. "What?"

Harry knew that Severus had understood him perfectly, so he repeated himself. "Teach me."

Severus stared at him, stock still, for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only more than a few seconds. He finally brought his hand to Harry's mouth, using his thumb to push in on the teen's full lips.

"Most men do not enjoy the sharp bite of teeth when receiving oral pleasure. Use your lips to cover them slightly."

Almost mesmerized by those dark eyes, Harry nodded his head, the thumb still against his lips.

"Another thing," Severus went on, his voice soft as he kept playing with the younger wizard's lip, "despite some vulgar vernacular, you do not have to blow. I am not a balloon." The last line was said with a smirk that the teen found himself mirroring.

"In the end, it is more about pressure and doing what feels comfortable to you. Harry toy do know that you do not-"

Severus didn't get to finish the statement, ending in a shocked gasp as Harry decided to just go for it at leaned his head down, placing a firm kiss on the heated skin. He stuck his tongue out for a tentative lick.

It was...different.

But not a bad different.

No, the skin was both soft and hard and the reaction he got from the man above him sent a happy little buzz through Harry. Keeping in mind his teeth, he took a deep breath before he took Severus completely into his mouth.

Only to get a pained sort of groan or cry from the Potions Master.

Harry immediately backed off. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Severus assured him rather harshly, because of his breathing, "It is just that I—that is it has been a long time since anyone has wanted to—"

The older wizard did not finish the statement, but he didn't have to. Harry smiled and nodded, then, a little slower this time, returned to his task.

It really didn't take long to establish a rhythm. He played around with different things that his tongue could do and enjoyed all the different reactions and noises that he was drawing from the normally stoic man.

That was when it happened.

Severus squeaked.

It was not quite like what Harry did, it was a much lower pitch, but it was still a definite squeak and Harry desperately wished he could remember what he did with his tongue that had gotten that reaction.

Placing both hands on Severus's thighs, Harry's focused doubled as he sought to drive the man above him absolutely crazy. There was some trial and error, with some things definitely working well than others, but Harry was having fun and Severus was having a hard time talking so it had to be going pretty okay. Harry began to get lost in his own little world, letting all the new sensations bombard his senses. The movement, the taste, the touch, the pressure, everything. He began to feel the muscles under his hands tremble and started to rub them, though why, he wasn't sure. Just felt like the right thing, is all.

Severus's orgasm seemed to take them by surprise, with Severus gasping out with his back and shoulders curling upwards a bit, and Harry giving his own muffled groan.

When it was over, Severus fell back against the ruffled pillows, his slightly sweaty hair splaying out as he looked down at the young grey eyes looking back at him. Harry stayed where he was for a few seconds, feeling the last weak pulses against his tongue before he raised his head and released Severus. He pushed himself up farther on his hands and felt the shoulders of the sleep shirt slip off, the garment falling around his arms and back.

His tongue on impulse went out to lick his lips again. Severus watched the entire time.

"That was fun!" Harry said, his voice a bit hoarse from their activities.

It wasn't the most romantic thing to say and definitely not the sexiest, but was it ever true.

Severus cocked an eyebrow as his breathing began to slow. "Indeed."

Harry had absolutely no warning for the swift movements of the apparently recovered and physically larger man below him as Severus sat up and flipped him over, pinning him to the bed.

"While you happen to play unfairly, I am an individual of great fairness," Severus whispered darkly into Harry's ear, making him smile even as his body began to pulse anew, "and as the saying goes, 'turnabout is fair play.'"

With that, Severus disappeared, moving down the nineteen-year-old's lean body and without pretense took him hotly into his mouth.

Harry let out a high gasp as he fought to keep his eyes open and on the dark, older man. His toes began to curl and his hands clenched, wanting something to hold onto. He gasped again when Severus's own hands reached up and clasped with his own, squeezing slightly.

Oh yes, they were going to make this work.

Had to.

*****End Adult Content*****

* * *

Thank you ever so much for reading Chapter 17! I really hope you enjoyed it!

* * *

Teasers for next chapter (with a bonus):

Have you ever meditated before?

The force is strong with this one.

What is our next move, my lord?

What have I told you about calling me sir?

* * *

Reviews are loved, as always, like the gems that they are!


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